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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23523106">Everything is Fine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/skulls_and_stripes/pseuds/skulls_and_stripes'>skulls_and_stripes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>What We Owe To Each Other [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>BoJack Horseman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(and then un-die and re-die but thats for the sequels), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everybody Dies/Nobody Lives, Alternate Universe - The Good Place (TV) Fusion, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Kinda, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, most of the main characters die in 2007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:34:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>55,260</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23523106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/skulls_and_stripes/pseuds/skulls_and_stripes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2007, 43-year-old has-been actor BoJack Horseman dies of alcohol poisoning. After dying, he meets Princess Carolyn, an "architect" for the Good Place, which is the idyllic paradise afterlife he's made it into as a reward for how his sitcom, Horsin' Around, helped so many people. In the Good Place, he finds some familiar faces, as well as some new people - but there's one problem. His show may have helped people, but only because he threw his closest friends under the bus to keep it going, and he was a rude, careless alcoholic his whole life. When he trusts his new friend Diane with this secret, she reluctantly decides to help him learn to be a better person - but can he be a good person for real before he's found out?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>BoJack Horseman &amp; Diane Nguyen, BoJack Horseman &amp; Sarah Lynn, Bojack Horseman &amp; Herb Kazzaz, Todd Chavez/Mr. Peanutbutter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>What We Owe To Each Other [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692709</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Everything is Fine Chapter 1: The BoJack Horseman Story</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He blinks.</p><p>Panic grips hold of him for just a second as he struggles to make sense of his surroundings. He’s in a waiting room of some sort, presumably. He’s sitting on a comfortable armchair, glancing around the room. Both of the walls to his sides have wooden doors in them, closed doors, and there are some potted plants on stools in the corners of the room. Aside from that, it’s a perfectly boring room; the walls are painted white, and the one directly in front of him has the words <em> Welcome! Everything is fine. </em>painted in large green letters.</p><p>Few things communicate that something is terribly wrong like the words “everything is fine”. Yet, for some reason, he smiles.</p><p>The door to his left swings open. A young woman, a pink cat with a curl of hair at the top of her head, smiles at him. “BoJack? Come on in.”</p><p>He obeys.</p><p>She leads him into an office and sits behind a cluttered desk. He sits across from her. </p><p>“Hi, BoJack,” she explains. “I’m Princess Carolyn. How are you today?”</p><p>“I’m great,” he lies. “Thanks for asking. Uh, just one question: Where the hell am I, who the hell are you, and what the hell is going on?”</p><p>“Right.” She clears her throat. “So. You, BoJack Horseman, are dead. Your life on earth has ended, and you are now in your next phase of existence in the universe.”</p><p>“...Cool.” He takes a deep breath. “Cool, I, uh, have some questions.”</p><p>“Thought you might.”</p><p>“How did I die?” On instinct he presses a hand to his forehead, because that’s usually what he has to do when he wakes up in a strange place with no memory of the previous night. “I, I don’t remember.”</p><p>“Yes, uh -- in cases of traumatic or embarrassing deaths, we erase the memory to allow for a … <em> peaceful </em>transition.” She grimaces. “Are you sure you wanna hear it?”</p><p>He nods.</p><p>“Alright, so you were at a bar and you were very drunk. The bartender advised that you stop drinking for the night, and you got upset and started throwing things. You were kicked out and dragged to your car, which you decided to drive home, for some reason.” Her voice is dry and somewhat annoyed.</p><p>“Oof.” That pretty much sums it up. “So I died in a car crash?”</p><p>“No, sorry, there’s more.” She shuffles some papers on the desk. “When you predictably crashed into a truck advertising an erectile dysfunction pill called ‘Engorgulate’, you survived with basically no serious injuries. You were shaken, though, and you had one more drink to ‘steady your nerves’.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “Then you died of alcohol poisoning. Funnily enough, the first EMT to arrive was an ex-girlfriend of yours…”</p><p>“Okay, I -- I get it.” He clears his throat. “So, who was right? I mean, about … all of this?”</p><p>“Oh, who was right?” She gives the impression of an overworked business woman -- he supposes celestial beings must be a little overworked. “Well, Muslims are a little bit right, Hindus are a little bit right, Jews, Christians, Buddhists -- everyone was about five per cent right. Except Joey Pogo.”</p><p>He blinks. “Who’s Joey Pogo?”</p><p>“Joey Pogo,” she explains, in the tone of one trying to break bad news to a child. “Is -- uh, <em> will </em>be a teen pop star in the late 2010s with drug problems. One night, he’s going to get really high on mushrooms, and his best friend’s gonna ask him, ‘Hey, what do you think happens after we die?’, and Joey will just launch into this long monologue where he’ll get like ninety-two per cent correct.” She laughs. “We couldn’t believe what we were hearing. That’s him, up there, actually.” She gestures toward a photo of a teenager on the wall. “He’s pretty famous around here.”</p><p>“So…” He gulps. “Maybe my biggest question, am I -- I mean, is this…?” He points vaguely upwards. “Or…” He makes a thumbs down gesture.</p><p>“Well, it’s not the Heaven-or-Hell idea that you were raised on.” She glances over some papers again. “Or rather, it’s not the Heaven-or-Hell that you would have been raised on if your parents had spiritual beliefs beyond imaginary friends being part of a communist conspiracy. But generally speaking, in the afterlife, there’s a Good Place and a Bad Place.” She leans in closer. “You’re in the Good Place.”</p><p>He breathes a sigh of relief.</p><p>“You’re okay, BoJack. You’re in the Good Place.”</p><p>“Well, that’s good.”</p><p>“Sure is!” She stands up. “Well, let’s take a walk, shall we?”</p>
<hr/><p>“So this is how it works,” she explains as they walk through paved streets of a bright and sunny neighbourhood. “The Good Place is divided into distinct neighbourhoods. Each one contains exactly three hundred and twenty-two people who have been perfectly selected to blend together into a blissful harmonic balance.”</p><p>“Do all the neighbourhoods look like this?” asks BoJack.</p><p>“No,” she answers proudly, gesturing at various buildings. “Every neighbourhood is unique. Some have warm weather, some are cold, some cities, some farmland… but in each one, every blade of grass, every detail has been precisely designed for the residents.”</p><p>“There’s…” He looks around. “A <em> lot </em>of stores that exclusively sell honeydew.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s the one thing we put everywhere. People love honeydew, I don’t know what to tell you.”</p><p>BoJack opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. “So … who’s in the Bad Place that would shock me?”</p><p>“Oh, basically everyone,” says Princess Carolyn dismissively. “It’s <em> incredibly </em> rare to make it here. Most people, especially most people in your industry, don’t make it. But your sitcom <em> Horsin’ Around </em> helped <em> millions </em>of children, so you made it. You’re a good person, BoJack.”</p><p>BoJack cringes. “...Yeah…”</p><p>“You’re gonna have a million more questions, I know. But right now, better grab a seat.” She leads him out into the town hall, where everyone is seated in rows of chairs in front of a screen. “The movie’s about to begin.”</p><p>He takes a seat and the screen turns on. It displays, on a glowing white background, a pre-recorded video of Princess Carolyn herself. “Hello, everyone, and <em> welcome </em>to your first day in the afterlife! You were all, simply put, good people -- but how do we know that you were good, how are we sure?” She pauses. “During your time on Earth, every one of your actions had a positive or negative value depending on how much good or bad that action put into the universe.” She smiles. “Every sandwich you ate, every time you brought a magazine, every single thing you did, had an effect that rippled out over time and ultimately created some amount of good or bad.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “You know how some people pull into the breakdown lane when there’s traffic, and they think to themselves, ‘Oh, who cares, noone’s watching?’” She winks. “We were watching. Surprise!”</p><p>The audience laughs. BoJack laughs with them.</p><p>“Anyway,” continues the video of Princess Carolyn. “When your time on Earth has ended, we calculate the total value of your life, using our perfectly accurate measuring system. Only the people with the very highest scores, the true cream of the crop, get to come here, to the Good Place. What happens to everyone else, you ask?” She waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>BoJack gulps.</p><p>“The point is,” she continues. “You are here because you lived one of the very best lives that could be lived. So welcome to eternal happiness -- welcome to the Good Place! Sponsored by -- babies holding hands when they sleep! You know the feeling you get when you see two babies holding hands? That’s how you’re gonna feel every day.”</p><p>The audience claps. BoJack remains silent.</p>
<hr/><p>He’s just been introduced to his irritatingly small house when he hears a knock on the door. Upon answering it, he finds himself facing an Asian woman with long, midnight blue hair. She’s wearing square glasses and a green jacket with two orange arrows pointing toward her abdomen, over a white undershirt and jeans. “Hi,” she begins, and the second the word’s out of her mouth she looks apologetic. “I, uh -- I just wanted to come see you because Princess Carolyn told me you were here and I was <em> such </em> a fan of <em> Horsin’ Around </em> and it was a <em> very </em>formative part of my childhood and --”</p><p>“Woah.” He holds up a hand to stop her monologue. “Nice to meet you too.”</p><p>“Sorry!” she squeaks. “I’m Diane. Diane Nguyen.”</p><p>“BoJack Horseman, but you obviously already know that.” He shakes her hand. “So, where are you from?”</p><p>There’s a flicker of <em> something </em>in her eyes before she answers. “Los Angeles, California.”</p><p>“Wow, I lived there too! We must have <em> just </em> missed each other.” He narrows his eyes. “But where were you … <em> born?” </em></p><p>“In Boston,” she answers. After a long pause, she adds, “My parents were Vietnamese.”</p><p>“Wow,” he breathes aloud. “Your English is <em> amazing.” </em></p><p>“Thanks,” answers Diane through gritted teeth. “It’s my native language. I grew up in Boston.”</p><p>If there’s an apology in order, BoJack certainly doesn’t notice or acknowledge it, and Diane takes a deep breath and swallows down any annoyance. “BoJack.” She takes another deep breath. “I didn’t have a great home environment growing up, and your show helped me survive. And now I’m actually meeting you. It’s…” She takes another breath. “It’s overwhelming.”</p><p>“...Diane,” he replies hesitantly. “You’ll stand by my side no matter what, right?”</p><p>“Of course I will,” she answers, blushing.</p><p>“Promise me. Say you’ll never betray me for <em> any </em>reason.”</p><p>“BoJack.” She places a hand on her chest. “I swear that I will never say or do anything to cause you any harm.” </p><p>“Good.” He exhales. “Because <em> Horsin’ Around </em> was the <em> only </em>good thing I did, I’m a stupid piece of shit, and I did nothing but hurt people in my life. There’s been a big mistake. I’m not supposed to be here.”</p><p>There’s a long, painful silence.</p><p>Diane blinks. “Wait, what?”</p><p>“I’m a stupid piece of shit,” he repeats urgently, tone low and conspiratorial. “I have done <em> nothing </em> good except that sitcom, I’m rude to everyone I talk to, I <em> hate </em>honeydew, I betray my closest friends all the time, and I lied about ‘getting’ Radiohead.” He gulps. “I’m not meant to be here.”</p><p>“That’s … that’s impossible,” Diane insists. “Your show basically saved my life! I’m probably not the only kid who loved it. You’re <em> BoJack Horseman -- </em> of <em> course </em>you’re a good person.”</p><p>“You haven’t seen the other shit I did,” he snaps. “They got the sitcom right, but basically nothing else. I mean, someone royally screwed up.”</p><p>“So, uh…” She frowns. “If the sitcom was your only <em> good </em> thing, what did you do the rest of the time? I mean, the show ended eleven years before you died -- you <em> must </em>have picked up some other acting gigs?”</p><p>“...”</p><p>There’s a long, painful silence.</p><p><em> “Well,” </em> he explains, gesturing vaguely. “I was <em> going </em> to produce a new show called <em> The BoJack Horseman Show, </em>but I died while it was still in the early planning stages.”</p><p>“How early?”</p><p>“It was a vague idea of my head that I sometimes imagined actually happening in a bizarre fantasy scenario where it was all an elaborate excuse for me to have sex with an attractive woman.”</p><p>“...Great.” She groans. “Okay, so, if you didn’t do anything career-wise in the last eleven years, what did you <em> do? </em>I mean, what are these awful things you did that make you so convinced you’re a bad person?”</p><p>“Well…” He hesitates. “There was a <em> lot </em>of questionable stuff, but a big one was when I let my best friend get fired, because if I didn’t there was a small chance that I would get fired.”</p><p>Her eyes widen. “You threw your best friend under the bus?!”</p><p>“Yes,” he says. “But, in my defense, I only did that because a while before that, I threw my <em> other </em> best friend under the bus, and if I got fired trying to do the <em> right thing </em> for Sharona then Herb’s life being ruined would all be for nothing, you know? So really, two wrongs <em> did </em>make a right.”</p><p>“Okay,” says Diane. “But that’s worse. I mean, you -- you do get how that’s worse, right?”</p><p>There’s a long, painful silence.</p><p>BoJack doesn’t get how that’s worse.</p>
<hr/><p>“Maybe it’s a test,” suggests Diane, as BoJack nudges his honeydew with a fork at one of the many cafes. “Maybe if you go to Princess Carolyn and tell her the truth, you’ll pass the test and you’ll get to stay.”</p><p>“No way,” he insists. “I can’t risk going to the Bad Place.”</p><p>“Okay, well,” she suggests weakly. “Maybe it’s not actually like, <em> all </em>that bad. Let’s just get some information first. We’ll ask Todd. Hey, Todd?”</p><p>“Hooray!”</p><p>The voice from behind him makes BoJack turn sharply. He finds himself staring at what looks like a young man, with blue hair hidden behind a yellow beanie, wearing a red hoodie. “Gah!” yells BoJack. </p><p>“How can I help you?” asks the stranger.<br/>
<br/>
“What the hell?!” chokes BoJack. “Who are you?!”</p><p>“I’m Todd.” He smiles. “I’m the informational assistant here in the Good Place.”</p><p>“He’s like this … walking database,” explains Diane. “You can ask him about the creation of the universe or history…”</p><p>“Oh!” He looks at Todd. “There was a girl who lived in Los Angeles, in around 1988. Her name was May Clarke. Is she a lesbian?”</p><p>“No,” answers Todd politely.</p><p>“Really? Huh.” He sighs. “I guess she just didn’t want to have sex with me.” </p><p>“That is correct.”</p><p>“Well, that’s fine,” he insists, waving a hand dismissively. “I wasn’t that into her anyway.”</p><p>“Yes, you were.”</p><p>Diane clears her throat. “Okay, Todd, I have a question.”</p><p>Todd turns to Diane. “Okay.”</p><p>“What is the Bad Place like?”</p><p>“Oh, sorry,” he answers with a wide smile. “That’s the one topic I’m not allowed to tell you about. I can only play a brief audio clip of what is happening there right now.” He opens his mouth wide, and produces a noise that sounds like infinite screams, the cackling of an open fire, growling and roaring, mechanical buzzing, and someone saying, “The bear has two mouths!”</p><p>Todd closes his mouth. There’s a long, ominous silence.</p><p>“Well,” snaps BoJack. “It doesn’t sound awesome.”</p>
<hr/><p>He sticks close to Diane as they walk through grassy fields. “All right, we need a plan. I say we just lie low and hope that they don't notice that I’m a dick.”</p><p>Diane grimaces. “I'm sorry, I don't think I can help you. I just don't like being dishonest, and I can't advise you to be dishonest either.”</p><p>“Come on,” he begs. “I'm just asking you to fudge a little bit. You must've told a few white lies in your life. I mean, what was your job?”</p><p>“I <em> wanted </em>to be a writer,” she snaps. “And I was close to getting a publishing deal, too. But I died unemployed because I got fired from Starbucks for being too honest about how I feel about the company.”</p><p>“God dammit!”</p><p>“I'm getting a stomach ache.” She groans. “I'm in a perfect utopia, and I'm... I have a stomachache. This is awful. I-I, uh... I think I have to tell Princess Carolyn about this.”</p><p>“Tell me about <em> what?” </em></p><p>“Princess Carolyn?” She jumps in shock. “Uh, hi.”</p><p>“BoJack,” explains Princess Carolyn. “I wanted to make sure you got to meet Sarah Lynn and Mr. Peanutbutter, since you knew them in your life.” She gestures toward the two familiar faces trailing behind her.</p><p>BoJack groans internally.</p><p>“BoJack!” yells Mr. Peanutbutter, while Sarah Lynn continues to do something on her phone. The dog grabs BoJack into an annoyingly tight hug. “Fancy seeing you here! After I saw that news article about the alcohol poisoning, I was <em> sure </em>I’d never see you again.”</p><p>“...Yeah.” He frowns. “When did you die?”</p><p>“2007,” explains Princess Carolyn. “A while after you did, and Sarah Lynn was after him. Time doesn’t really <em> move </em> here like it does on Earth, so we managed to get you all together. We thought it would make the whole thing <em> extra </em>special, if you could be with your best friends from your life!”</p><p>“Great,” says BoJack through gritted teeth.</p><p>“Oh, hi,” says Sarah Lynn, after Mr. Peanutbutter has released BoJack. “Can I just say I <em> hate </em> your house? It's just so tiny and <em> dumb </em> . It's like a little child's plaything, like for a family of stupid-ass mice or for a fancy-shmancy little dog. The architecture <em> sucks. </em> Just like you.” She leans forward and presses the triangle at the end of his muzzle with her finger. “Boop.”</p><p>“Oh,” says BoJack, still through gritted teeth. “You booped me.”</p><p>“I did.”</p><p>“That's fun.”</p><p>Princess Carolyn clears her throat. “Sarah Lynn and Mr. Peanutbutter are having a little welcome party tonight, and they've invited the entire neighborhood.”</p><p>“Yeah, ‘cause my music’s the <em> best.” </em>She makes a crude hand gesture. “See you tonight. Until then, suck a dick, dumb shits!”</p>
<hr/><p>He stares around in amazement. “No way.” He groans. “My entire house could fit in this room.”</p><p>Diane pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay, uh... help me out here. Tell me <em> one </em>good thing that you did on Earth, just one truly kind and decent act, so that I can feel better about helping you out.”</p><p>BoJack remains silent.</p><p>She groans. “Let's forget about good. Um, just tell me something neutral about yourself. Like, tell me about the day before you died. What do you remember?”</p><p>BoJack considers this.</p>
<hr/><p>He was just trying to complete his regular grocery shopping, while drunk, when some stupid dweeb shoved an annoying pamphlet into his face. “Hi there. Do you have a second to talk about the environment?”</p><p>“Do you have a second to eat shit?” snapped back BoJack. He finished drinking his vodka and carelessly threw the bottle in the general direction of the bin.</p><p>“...You missed.”</p><p>He scoffed. “Pick it up if you're so horny for the environment.” </p>
<hr/><p>“...I don't remember anything specific,” says BoJack finally.</p><p>Diane’s face falls.</p><p>“Look,” he snaps. “I might not have been a saint, but it's not like I killed anybody, okay?! I wasn't an arsonist. I never found a wallet outside of an IHOP and thought about returning it but saw the owner lived out of state so just took the cash and dropped the wallet back on the ground.” </p><p>“Okay,” says Diane. “that's really specific, and that makes me think that you definitely did do that.” </p><p>“All I'm saying is these people might be  <em> good, </em>but are they really that much better than me?” </p><p>They go around asking the other partygoers about their lives. One man spent half of his life in North Korea fighting for women’s rights and the other half in Saudi Arabia fighting for gay rights. One woman recounts a story of how she dug up over a thousand unexploded land mines from the area surrounding the orphanage. They’re halfway through hearing about how one resident donated both of his kidneys to a man he’d met on the bus ten minutes ago when BoJack groans loudly. “Oh, forget it. Heading to the bar!”</p><p>Several drinks later, Diane gently pulls him into the small crowd that’s gathered for Princess Carolyn’s speech and stamps his foot. “Shut up,” she hisses, while he attempts to rant about honeydew.</p><p>“Thank you, thank you,” says Princess Carolyn. “You all know that I am the architect of this neighborhood. But what you don't know is... Golly, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but, um, oh, what the heck? This is actually the very first neighborhood that I have ever designed. I had been an apprentice for over two hundred years, and my boss has finally given me my first solo project.”</p><p>Everybody claps.</p><p>Todd walks through the crowd, pushing along a cotton candy machine. BoJack begins to take an absurd amount and shove it into his mouth, prompting Diane to take his shoulders and pull him back. “Okay, easy.”</p><p>“What? It's for everybody, right?”</p><p>“Yes, exactly.”</p><p>“And you deserve a perfect world,” continues Princess Carolyn. “because every single one of you is a good person.” She seems to stare directly at BoJack. “That's it for me. Back to you, Sarah Lynn.”</p><p>She takes a step back. Sarah Lynn, still on her phone, says, “Suck a dick, dumb shits.”</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter steps forward to give a speech. “Bravo, Sarah, great job! Thank you. Um, and I would just like to quickly say if any of you would like to play tennis tonight, we have thirty-six regulation grass tennis courts, for some reason.”</p><p>BoJack groans. “Mr. Peanutbutter, what a condescending dick.”</p><p>Diane frowns. “Okay, okay, okay, let’s not --”</p><p>“Am I right, though?” </p><p>“No, you’re not.” She groans. “What about Sarah Lynn? Don’t you think she was being a little rude?”</p><p>“What? No! Sarah’s, uh… she’s my prickly-muffin, y’know? She’s a saint.” He glares. “It’s, it’s Peanut-bother that’s the evil asshole.</p><p>“Okay,” says Diane gently. “I think it's time to go home.”</p><p>BoJack bursts into a fit of laughter. “Wait, wait, wait. I just have to go upstairs real quick and steal a bunch of acting awards.”</p><p>“Okay, don't do that.” </p><p>BoJack pauses, then goes upstairs to do exactly that.</p>
<hr/><p>He’s still ranting about how evil Mr. Peanutbutter is when Diane pulls him into his home. He pauses the rant to complain about how hard it is to access his bedroom due to the lack of stairs, and Diane takes the opportunity. “I actually think Mr. Peanutbutter’s pretty nice. And … kinda cute, if I’m being honest.”</p><p>BoJack blinks. </p><p>“I mean,” she adds hurriedly. “You are okay with that, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” he slurs in response. “I’m fine with that, really, I am…” He stops mid-sentence to vomit an absurdly large amount of cotton candy onto the wooden floor.</p><p>Diane narrows her eyes. “Did you eat too much cotton candy?”</p><p>“No. He hiccups. “Yes.” He wipes vomit from his mouth and flicks it carelessly away. “Whatever, it's goddamned heaven. I'm sure they have <em> plenty </em>of cotton candy.” He clambers into bed. “Mr. Peanutbutter is a real butthead, huh?”</p><p>Diane doesn’t answer. She instead exits the room and comes back a few moments later holding a wad of clothing. “Found some pajamas.” She leaves them on the bed and turns to leave. “Diane…” he moans after her. “Diane, Diane?”</p><p>She irritably turns, an eyebrow raised at him.</p><p>“I'm sorry that you had to deal with…” He gestures vaguely. “...this…”</p><p>She sighs. “It's okay.” </p><p>“It's not, though.” He sighs. “Do you think anybody cared that I died? Maybe someone did. I don't know. I was an only child. My parents hated each other when I was a kid. They’re both shitty people, so when they die, they’re probably going…” He makes a crude farting noise. “to the Bad Place.” His eyes widen. “Heh, maybe they're gonna be used to torture each other. It <em>would</em> work.”</p><p>Diane chuckles. </p><p>“I bet way more people cared that you died. 'Cause you're a nice person.” He clears his throat. “You're a nice person, Diane... Newman.” </p><p>“Nguyen,” she corrects. </p><p>“Ngu… New one.”</p><p>“Nguyen.”</p><p>“Neh... say it again.”</p><p>“Nguyen.”</p><p>“No,” he insists, frowning. “say what you said before.”</p><p>“I did. It's Nguyen.” </p><p>“You just changed it."<br/>
<br/>
“I didn't change it, it's my name!”</p><p>He takes a deep breath and tries one more time. “Nev-you. Never gonna give you up.” He gasps. “That's a thing! I did it.”</p>
<hr/><p>He’s woken early the next morning by screeching caws and a crash of thunder.</p><p>He wakes up remarkably fast, because the hangover filter makes the transition from sleep to waking easier than it was most of the time when he was alive. “That can’t be good.”</p><p>He scrambles out of bed, and he can just hear something among the screams and chaos outside -- something coherent. Something with words.</p><p>
  <em> Never gonna give you up, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Never gonna let you down, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Never gonna run around and desert you </em>
</p><p>“...Oh shit.”</p><p>
  <em> Never gonna make you cry, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Never gonna say goodbye </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you </em>
</p><p>He runs outside, and every step he’s dodging a giant beer bottle rolling down the street, or an abnormally large pile of vomit with the smell and texture of cotton candy, or the telescopes inexplicably falling from the sky. He runs away from Princess Carolyn, who is explaining that the music is <em> actually </em>part of a very popular Internet prank, while struggling to explain away the other oddness. He keeps running until he sees Diane.</p><p>“Diane, Diane!” He pants for air and stares at her outfit, which is the same as it was when they met but in bright yellow and navy blue. “What's going on? Why is there weird shit everywhere? Do you hear Rick Astley playing? Why is everyone wearing blue and yellow?” </p><p>“...You're not.  You're... you're the only one who's not.” She gulps. “BoJack, this is all happening because of you!”</p><p>“...Ah, damn me.”</p><p>They make a swift journey back to BoJack’s annoyingly small house, where Diane sits blankly in a bean bag while he paces. “Okay, okay. We don't know this is because of me.”</p><p>“BoJack,” she snaps. “This place is a perfectly made Swiss watch, and you are a wrench in the gears. Actually, you're a hammer, just smashing the gears into dust.”</p><p>“Oh, hang on,” he protests. “Not everybody here is perfect, okay? Mr. Peanutbutter is totally condescending. And there are a couple of, you know, chunksters.” He poses with his arms forming a circle around his stomach in a mockery of fatness.</p><p>“Oh, come on!”</p><p>“No judgment. I'm just saying! I'm not the only one with flaws. So how can we be sure this is my fault?”</p><p>Diane groans. “You hogged all the cotton candy and threw it up, and now there’s cotton candy vomit everywhere. You drank too much, and now there’s giant beer bottles in the street.” </p><p>“Okay, fine, turns out there are many ways to know that it was me.”</p><p>“Let's just face it, BoJack, you don't belong here.” </p><p>“...Well, then this system <em> sucks!” </em> He waves his hands around in an overdramatic show of anger. “What, one in a million gets to live in paradise and everyone else is tortured for eternity? Come <em> on </em> . I mean, I wasn't freaking Gandhi, but I was <em> okay </em>. I was a medium person. I should get to spend eternity in a medium place! Like Cincinnati.” His eyes widen. “Everyone who wasn't perfect but wasn't terrible should get to spend eternity in Cincinnati.”</p><p>Diane hesitates. “Look, apparently it doesn't work that way. I'm sorry, BoJack, but there's nothing anyone can do.” “</p><p>“Unless... there is something we can do.” His eyes light up. “Unless you could teach me.”</p><p>She frowns. “Teach you what?”</p><p>“How to be good. You wear glasses, so you’re a nerd, right? So you know about ethics and bullshit.”</p><p>“...Faulty logic, but continue.” </p><p>“No one knew I was a problem when I arrived. Things only started getting crazy after I was an asshole to everyone at the party.”</p><p>Diane hesitates.</p><p>“Please, give me a chance. Let me earn my place here. Let me be your ethical guinea pig.”</p><p>There’s a loud knock at the door. “Hey, guys!” It’s Princess Carolyn’s voice. “Uh, emergency neighborhood meeting, now!” </p><p>“We'll be right there!” calls Diane.</p><p>BoJack groans and gestures toward his pyjamas. “If I walk out of here in these clothes, I'm toast.” He looks her in the eye. “My soul is in your hands. What's it gonna be?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Flying</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>BoJack has to choose between flying and helping to clean up the debris from the chaos he caused.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She paces around the room anxiously. “I, uh... I don't know what to do here. This is a mess, morally speaking. This is a putrid, disgusting bowl of moral soup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” suggests BoJack. “well, how about we just chill and go to the town meeting and talk it out after?” Diane opens her mouth to protest and her cuts her off. “Great. Hey, how do I make that helper guy show up? Hello? Front desk dude?” He pauses. “Magical slave robot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane pinches the bridge of her nose. “Excuse me, Todd?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hooray!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack jumps in shock, and turns to see Todd standing behind him, his red hoodie replaced by an array of navy and yellow stripes. “Gah... still not used to it. Um, Todd, I need…” He frowns. “quick question: can anyone access our search history, or is this an incognito browsing situation like when you're stalking a hot secretary woman from your work computer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s completely confidential,” answers Todd. “No one can access what you ask me, including Princess Carolyn. Now, what kind of pornography would you like to see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No, no, no, not porn. I, um…” He gulps. “I need clothes like yours and Diane’s with the stripes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd holds out his hands, and a pile of yellow and navy clothes appear in them. “There you go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack neglects to thank him.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The crowd gathers around her. “Everybody, everybody! Uh, gather round, please, thank you, thank you.” Princess Carolyn clears her throat. “Obviously, there's something very wrong with this neighborhood. We don't know what it is, how long it will last, or what caused it. What do we know, Todd?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We know </span>
  <em>
    <span>where </span>
  </em>
  <span>it happened,” answers Todd. “Here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, thank you, Todd. The chaos happened </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. See, that's the trouble with these perfect systems. One little flaw can lead to... well, it can lead to Gary over there.” She gestures toward a cat with a photorealistic face. “Hey, Gary. Hang in there, buddy. Oh fish, my armpits are leaking.” She turns to Todd. “What is that called again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweat."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, right. Still not used to being in a tangible body. And what do you do with sweat? Do... do you lick it away, is that right?” She begins to cautiously prod her armpit with her tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” answers Todd, making a blue and yellow cloth appear out of nowhere. “you dab it with a cloth.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right. And then you lick the cloth?” She frowns. “That seems weirder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey, PC! Look!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd turns to face Sarah Lynn, whose navy blue and yellow stripes seem to be slowly fading to reveal her normal outfit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” says Princess Carolyn. “That's a good sign. It... it could mean that this is almost over.” The rest of the residents’ clothes begin to regain their normal colours, and BoJack grimaces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, such a relief,” moans Sarah. “That was my first time as a fashion </span>
  <em>
    <span>don't , </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>sucked.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack makes a swift exit.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When Diane arrives at his house, he doesn’t wait for her to say hello before he says, “Okay, I think it is time to make me good, partner. How do we do it? Is there a pill I can take or something I could vape?” He frowns. “Where did you get a chalkboard?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's the Good Place,” she explains, gesturing to the chalkboard that she’s already covered with writing. “You can get anything you want at any time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you chose a chalkboard?” He raises an eyebrow at the book in her hands. “What are you reading?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Metaphysics of Morals</span>
  </em>
  <span> by Immanuel Kant. It's a treatise on the aesthetic preconditions of the mind's receptivity to duty.” At BoJack’s blank stare, she adds, “A book on how to act good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, great! So you've decided to help me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't know. There's a <em>thousand</em> questions.” She gestures toward the points she’s written on the board. “Is there a moral <em>imperative</em> to help you? Do I have a greater obligation to my community? Are you taking someone else's spot, someone who <em>deserves</em> to be here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, on that question, I honestly think I was just put here by mistake,” he explains. “Because Princess Carolyn was right about </span>
  <em>
    <span>Horsin’ Around</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so she knows I'm me. She's just wrong about my overall </span>
  <em>
    <span>quality </span>
  </em>
  <span>level.” He gulps. “Please, help me, man. I swear I am worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane raises an eyebrow. “Tell me </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>fact that you know about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long, painful silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean,” she continues. “we spent the whole day together. You must remember something. Where did I grow up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack groans. “Is it racist if I say Asia?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and I have never been to Asia in my life. I am from Boston. Do I have any siblings? Where did I go to college?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trick question,” answers BoJack stubbornly. “You didn't.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I went to Boston University.” She groans. “Do you not remember one single thing about me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>come </span>
  </em>
  <span>on!” he protests. “Dude, things have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>nuts </span>
  </em>
  <span>around here. I bet you don't know anything about me that you couldn’t find out from the show.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath. “You were born in San Francisco. You had a summer house in Michigan. You're an only child. Your favorite show is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Horsin’ Around, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and your favorite... ‘book’ is an autobiography that was in the ‘early planning stages’ when you died -- and of course the ‘early planning stages’ meant it was a vague idea you had in your head that you sometimes fantasized about in a scenario that was a paper-thin excuse for you to have sex with some attractive woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinks. “How did you know all that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>constantly </span>
  </em>
  <span>talking about yourself.” She groans. “You are the most self-obsessed person I have ever met. You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>so many </span>
  </em>
  <span>fans, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>nobody </span>
  </em>
  <span>is as obsessed with you as you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you should see the women from my fantasy scenarios where everyone wants to have sex with me because of my great autobiography.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, this is my fear about you, BoJack. You are too selfish to ever be a good person.”<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Well,” he says stubbornly. “I think you're wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did I grow up, again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitates. “...China.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is not even close.” She sighs. “Look, the only thing that you are concerned with is your own happiness. That's your problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack scoffs.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “So Brad’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>just some guy?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm-hmm,” said Herb heterosexually. “Just some guy that I happen to be friends with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, names in the hat,” said BoJack loudly, passing around a large hat that looked like it came straight out of the 80s, which was fitting, because that was the decade it currently was. “Time to pick a designated driver.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Herb and Charlotte each placed a slip of paper into the hat. BoJack shuffled them around a bit, then took one out. “And the loser is…” He read the paper and his face fell for a second, but he quickly regained his composure. “...Charlotte!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlotte frowned. “Wait, you never get picked, and you’re always the one who draws the name. Let me see that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need!” insisted BoJack, moving the paper away from her reaching arms. “Everyone here believes my integrity a hundred percent -- right, Herb?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Herb remained silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give it to me!” yelled Charlotte, leaning forward and trying to grap the slip of paper. BoJack, without hesitation, shoved it into his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Herb and Charlotte stared at him in stunned silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the record,” he said. “I did that out of principle, because it absolutely had your name on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I check the other ones, I can figure it out by process of elimination.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack quickly shoved the other two pieces of paper into his mouth and chewed them up. Herb groaned. “You know what, Charlotte? I’ll do it tonight."</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Alright, everyone, let’s get started.” She stands on the stage, addressing the neighbourhood. “Things have settled down. Whew!” She chuckles. “So hopefully, we're off and running. Welcome to orientation, day two. Now, I know not many of you are birds or insects or bats, so how about we make like Amelia Earheart and fly?” She’s met with a roar of applause. “Now that you're dead, let's live a little, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh,” whines Sarah. “Flying is like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>famous, you get to do it all the time.” She groans. “Besides, you really expect us to fly when there’s so much debris and shit everywhere? A bunch of the neighbourhood was destroyed in the chaos earlier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter stands up eagerly. “Oh, I know! Some of us could volunteer to help clean up the debris. It’s a fun way to band together as a community.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure, I’ll do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” says Princess Carolyn uncertainly. “Well, it’s not really your job to clean up, but I suppose there’s no harm if you really want to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonderful!” says Mr. Peanutbutter, marching over to the stage. “We’ll need about twelve volunteers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several people begin to raise their hands, and BoJack leans over toward Diane. “I can't believe all these people are passing on flying to pick up garbage all day.” He chuckles. “Have fun, nerds. I'll be soaring through the air like a goddamned bird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane, not missing a beat, raises her hand. “BoJack and I would love to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My good friend BoJack!” yells Mr. Peanutbutter. “I would love to work with you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude,” hisses BoJack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to prove you're not selfish?” she counters. ‘Here's the perfect test. There's something fun that you want to do, and then there's something less fun that people are doing for the common good.” She looks him dead in the eye. “Which do you choose?”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Flying, in the Good Place, is an experience that can only be described as “like having fifty million simultaneous orgasms, but better”. BoJack, of course, only knows this because a flying woman tells him as much while he’s busy cleaning up rubbish. He wonders if knowing this would have dissuaded Sarah from her eagerness to help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn, at the moment, is in the middle of cleaning when Princess Carolyn appears to ask how it’s going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, it’s pretty good,” she answers. “And dude, I gotta say, this neighbourhood is totally cool. The architecture is great. Never seen anything better, and I’ve been to Johnny Depp’s stupid-ass bird sanctuary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, thank you,” replies Princess Carolyn. “That's very kind of you to say.” She sniffs. “But it's also dead wrong. This neighborhood is a disaster. See, I must have made a mistake somewhere, and -- and it led to all this chaos, and now I'm just…” She buries her face in her hands. “I'm just terrified that it's gonna happen again. I'm trying to put a good face on well, this... this face that I've constructed for myself. But the truth is, I... I'm just miserable.” She sighs. “I have to go. Thank you so much for your service.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks off and Sarah Lynn grimaces. “Oof. Powerful people do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>handle failure well. I bet she’s heading for a total meltdown.” She glances over at Mr. Peanutbutter. “Hey, dog dude, are you thinking what I'm thinking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I am!” answers Mr. Peanutbutter.<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Should we say it at the same time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds fun!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right. One, two, three: We should help PC!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There should be Halloween stores in January!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn blinks. “Uh, what?” </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Leaving the giggling of his most annoying friends -- not counting Mr. Peanutbutter -- behind, he rudely slings am arm around Diane’s shoulder. “Well, I have had a pretty full day of being unselfish. I've made some new friends. My area's almost garbage-free. So you're gonna help me figure out how to stay, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” answers Diane irritably. “that is a really tough question. Most great philosophers would say helping you is pointless, that you can't try to be good, especially when your motivations are so </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously </span>
  </em>
  <span>corrupt.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but what do most great philosophers know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the other hand, Aristotle thought that moral virtue is something that you could get better at. He... he compared it to playing the flute. The more you practice, the more you improve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aristotle!” He grins. “That's my boy, right there. He was the best. I mean, most people agree he was the best one. So it sounds to me like you are on board the </span>
  <em>
    <span>help BoJack </span>
  </em>
  <span>train.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. “Well, I've narrowed it down to two possibilities: yes and no.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, no worries. Just hit me up when you're done weighing my life in your hands. I'll just keep doing what I do best: being super considerate and selfless.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He proudly sauntered over to their table with a grin. “Hey, guys!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, BJ,” said Herb. “Just a reminder, we switched to a rotating system for choosing a designated driver, and it's your turn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it,” said BoJack. “Full disclosure, I forgot we were doing this new system. I got off work early. I've been here for about an hour, and I'm already pretty drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlote sighed. “I’ll do it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good call.” He chuckled. “Guess the only place I'll be driving is through the giant loophole in the system I accidentally discovered.” He mimes pressing on a car’s horn. “Beep! Beep!”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Five more minutes, flyers!” Todd’s voice boom throughout the neighbourhood. “Five more minutes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously?!” BoJack groans, struggling to hoist his garbage bag to a trash can. He gives it a tug, and finds himself holding nothing but plastic as a hole opens up in the bottom of the bag, allowing the rubbish to flow through to the ground. “Shouldn’t these be magical trash bags?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glances over at the people flying. He hesitates.<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He shoves the garbage under a carpet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Todd, I'm finished with cleanup, and I'm ready to fly.” He walks over to Todd, grabbing a flight jacket on the way and hurriedly buttoning it up. “How do I start?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd gestures toward the launch pad in front of him. “Hop on the launch pad and conjure an image that brings you pure joy. Some people think of their wedding day or favorite vacation spot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack steps onto the launch pad and whispers under his breath, “Masturbating to a giant picture of myself. Masturbating to a giant picture of myself.” He gasps in shock as his feet begin to levitate a few feet off the ground. “ It's working!” His joy is cut off by something hitting him in the back of the head. “Ow! What the hell?” Thunder crashes as he sees trash raining down around him. His heart skips a beat. “Todd, any chance this is a scheduled trash storm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Todd answers that it isn’t, he runs to find Diane, who was still picking up rubbish when it started and is now cowering under a verandah. “Diane! Hey. Before you say anything…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane raises an eyebrow expectantly at him.<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“That's it, I just don't want you to say anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She groans. “What did you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing! It just started raining trash out of nowhere for no reason at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a crash of thunder and a distant scream. “Oh... okay, fine, fine. My bag broke, and I ditched the trash instead of taking it all the way to the dumpster. But in my defense, there were only five minutes left in flying and I wanted to go flying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is that a defense? You made a bad choice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I </span>
  </em>
  <span>made a bad choice?” he repeats incredulously. “We could have </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>been flying, and all you wanted to do was talk about morals. I mean, you're like the worst part of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Superman</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane looks away from him. “This is a relief. I can stop my deliberations. You're a selfish person, and it is pointless to help you.” She makes eye contact with him. “You are on your own.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn takes a seat on Sarah Lynn’s couch and sighs, burying her face in her hands. “I don't know what's happening to me. I mean, it's my duty to be calm and in control and I'm falling apart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, don’t fall apart, you’re so sexy, haha,” says Sarah Lynn unhelpfully, not looking up from her phone. “You're, like, a mountain of strength.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm not a mountain of strength. I'm… a canyon full of shit.” She starts sobbing into her hands. Sarah Lynn still doesn’t look up from her phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Peanutbutter, the architect of this neighborhood just called herself a canyon full of shit. Wanna help her feel less shitty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No thanks,” says Mr. Peanutbutter. “I’m gonna go back to my house to see if there are any more acting awards in the trophy room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>In </span>
  </em>
  <span>the trophy room.” Princess Carolyn’s eyes widen. “Oh. Yes, yes, I understand. The strength is inside me. It's been there all along. No, of course, I can overcome any obstacle. Thank you so much!” She eagerly stands up. “I’m back! I’m gonna go help the others with the trash storm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” says Sarah Lynn nonchalantly. “And don’t forget to suck a dick, dumb shit.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The attractive bartender saw him stirring his water dejectedly and smiled. “Just water tonight, huh? Designated driver?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” moaned BoJack. “it </span>
  <em>
    <span>sucks</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it's awesome.” She chuckled. “I mean, someone's got to do it, right? I think it's a cool thing to do for people.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. No... no, I meant... I meant... I... it sucks that I can't do it more often, you know?” He forced a grin. “I actually prefer it to drinking. Staying sober and knowing my friends will get home safe, that's my buzz.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some time later, he eagerly walked back to Charlotte and Herb’s table. “Hey, guys, good news and bad news. See that hot bartender over there? She's into me, and we're gonna bang it out.“ He grimaced. “The bad news is, it means I can't drive you guys home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Herb pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you at least call us a cab?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>going </span>
  </em>
  <span>to. But, what with it being the 80s and all, I would have had to walk to a phone booth and that would be a long walk, so I figured it’d be easier to just let Brad or someone pick you up.” He grinned. “So are we good here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“BoJack,” said Charlotte. “you have a very important choice to make. If you blow us off, you are banned from Thursday night drinks</span>
  <em>
    <span> forever.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long, painful silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I'm good with that. I'll see you guys around.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It’s around three in the morning, he thinks. He’s rather good at guessing approximately what time it is by the lighting outside, because he’s used to waking up at obscene hours in strange places. He’s not sure if time is even really a thing here, though. Maybe he should ask Todd, once he’s done with this stupid trash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to see Diane. He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “How did you know I was here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw you from my window.” She points at a nearby house. “That's where I live, by the way. Not that you ever asked. What are you doing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grimaces. “I went to all the places where I dumped trash earlier and cleaned it up so it couldn't be traced back to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it looks like you cleaned up everything.” She narrows her eyes. “You're doing this because you feel bad. And you're not even doing it to get me to help you anymore because I told you that's not gonna happen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groans. “Okay, yeah, fine, I felt bad for stupid Sarah Lynn and stupider Mr. Peanutbutter and the whole neighborhood. I felt bad about what I did. It was a weird feeling. Not used to it. Didn't love it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane hesitates. “Well, feeling remorse about being wrong isn't as good as just doing something right, but it's a start. Look, I think you're capable of change. And I will help you try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widen. “Oh, wow, man, I swear I won't let you down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hooray!” Todd materialises behind him holding a trash bag. “I've collected the worst-smelling garbage that I could find. Do you still want me to dump it inside of Mr. Peanutbutter’s house?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> chokes BoJack in an overdramatic show of confusion. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>tell you to do that. You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, dude.” He turns to Diane, who is staring at him with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, I won’t let you down starting now.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He’s in the middle of a slightly drunken walk around the neighbourhood when he sees Princess Carolyn. “Oh, BoJack.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Princess Carolyn.” He grins, holding up his bottle of vodka. “Do you know what the best part about this place is? You figured out how to make a glass bottle that doesn't break when you drop it because you’re drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles at the flattery. “Oh, I'm so glad you noticed. I was very proud of that. One of the hardest problems I had to solve.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “BoJack, I know what you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack’s heart skips several beats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cleaning up the entire neighborhood by yourself!” She laughs. “I knew you were special, but this is proof. Enjoy your drink. And the bottle!”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When Diane visits just before lunchtime with a box of books to begin moving into his apartment, he’s proud to announce that he has a present for her. When she asks for elaboration, he says proudly, with perfect pronunciation, “Nguyen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises an eyebrow. “That’s it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you grew up in Boston!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stares blankly at him. “That’s not a present, that’s just common decency.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>nailed </span>
  </em>
  <span>it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane pats him on the shoulder gently, grimacing. “Good talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks off, leaving him alone in the room. A movement in the corner of his eye causes him to turn sharply, and he sees a small patch of white on the wooden floor, near the door. Upon closer inspection, he sees that it’s a small piece of paper. He bends down to pick it up and sees that written on the bottom side of it, in large black marker, is the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>YOU DON’T BELONG HERE.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He reads it over and over again as his heart pounds in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh, shit.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Prickly Muffin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>BoJack hangs out with Sarah Lynn; Princess Carolyn tries to get Diane to try new things.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw for drug use, talk of addiction/alcoholism, and some lines that really strongly hint at suicidal thoughts</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She bangs her chalk on the blackboard for emphasis. “So Aristotle was Plato's student. And Aristotle believes that your character is voluntary, because it's just the result of your actions, which are under your control.” She sighs irritably. “For example, right now, you have made the insane choice to ignore the person who is literally trying to save you from eternal damnation.”</p><p>“No, yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm listening,” BoJack insists, still staring at the sheet of paper in his hand. “Uh, I just... are we <em> sure </em>we should be paying attention to these guys? It's like, who died and left Aristotle in charge of ethics?”</p><p>Diane gives him an incredulous look and gestures toward the writing on the board.<em> “Plato.“ </em></p><p>There’s a knock at the door. Diane rushes to clear up the chalkboard and BoJack’s heart skips a beat. “Uh, coming! Uh, we're just... kissing. And... groping?” </p><p><em> “What?” </em>mouths Diane.</p><p>BoJack finally gets the door and finds himself facing Sarah Lynn. “Hello,” says Diane through gritted teeth.</p><p>“Hi,” replies Sarah Lynn, not looking up from her phone.</p><p>“Hi,” says BoJack. “What brings you here?” </p><p>“You know, I was just, uh, <em> in the neighborhood.” </em>She snickers at her own joke. “Anyway, so yesterday that weird dog guy was looking in my trophy room for some stupid-ass reason, and that reminded me of how you stole a bunch of acting awards from me on the first night here.”</p><p>“...Oh,” says BoJack.</p><p>“And I mean, Todd brought them all back, but I was still a little upset, y’know, because it’s just so <em> pathetic </em> of you. So I brought you this, as a gift.” She hands him a golden statue with some words relating to <em> Horsin’ Around </em>engraved on the front. “It’s technically for all the actors, they just let me keep the actual trophy because I’m the best, so I guess you can pretend it’s for you or whatever. Also, Todd can make as many drugs as you want and there’s no hangovers here, so lemme know if you wanna hang.” She turns to leave. “Suck a dick, dumb shits.”</p><p>BoJack slams the door behind her. “Ugh, she’s <em> so </em>good.”</p><p>Diane raises an eyebrow. “...Good at <em> what?” </em></p><p>“Being <em> good! </em> It’s like, she <em> knows </em> I don’t belong and she’s rubbing it in with her perfection.” His eyes widen. “Wait, shit, she knew me in life -- do you think she <em> does </em>know?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” She frowns. “Are you <em> sure </em> she’s not a mistake, like you? I mean, she <em> literally </em>just told us to suck a dick.”</p><p>“Pfft, if anyone isn’t meant to be here it’s annoying Peanutbutter. Plus,” he waves the trophy in her face obnoxiously. “She gave me a gift!”</p><p>“I thought it was kind of a jerk move -- really condescending and pitying.” </p><p>“Oh, Diane. She’s a <em> total </em>saint.  She acts rude, but I see through her little façade.” </p><p>“Her façade of being a mean person who tells everyone within a three mile radius to suck a dick?” </p><p>“Bingo.” </p><p>She sighs. “Okay. I'll... I'll remind you that you're trying to learn how to be a good person. Maybe you don’t really know right from wrong yet.”</p><p>“She’s <em> perfect,” </em> he continues to whine. “And I mean, she <em> totally </em>had her shit together! She wasn’t a wreck like me.”</p><p>“Had her shit together?!” chokes Diane incredulously. “Do you have any idea how she died?!”</p><p>“I dunno, probably an overdose or some shit?”</p><p>“No, it was -- wait, you think overdosing is an example of ‘having your shit together’?” She groans. “Look. Maybe you should, uh -- try to give her a little push toward being a better person. You know, give her a gift that isn’t totally pitying, hang out with her, call her out when --” </p><p>“Oh,” he scoffs. “so now I'm supposed to be friendly yet assertive and help her to be the best version of herself?!”</p><p>“...Yeah.” </p><p>“That is <em> exactly </em>what she wants me to do, Diane, wake up!” </p><p>He storms off, leaving a stuttering Diane behind. “That... that's what everyone wants everyone to do.”</p>
<hr/><p>She’s in a cafe, reading one of the many ethics books that Todd has summoned for her, when Princess Carolyn takes a seat next to her. “Hello, Diane. No honeydew for you this morning?”</p><p>She wilts under the cat’s stare, and somehow has the feeling that Princess Carolyn is already suspicious of her, but manages to answer. “Oh, uh, no, just, uh, doing some reading.” </p><p>“Ugh,” complains Todd, who is standing next to Princess Carolyn. “been there, brother. Workin' hard or hardly workin', am I right?” He pauses. “Hump day.”</p><p>At Diane’s raised eyebrow, Princess Carolyn rushes into an explanation. “Uh, sorry. Todd’s functioning as my assistant, but he's a little stiff, so I've been trying to get him to be a little more casual and conversational.”</p><p>Todd points at Diane. “I'll have what she's having.” </p><p>“It's a work in progress.” She clears her throat. “Listen, Diane. I've been studying your file. You're a very interesting case. You essentially only wanted to do one thing while you were on earth -- to be a published author.” </p><p>“Yes,” replies Diane. “And I <em>almost </em>got a publishing deal on my manuscript called <em>One Last Thing,</em> comma,<em> And Then I Swear To God I’ll Shut Up About This Forever, </em>colon, <em>A Definitive Retrospective Of The Choices We --”</em></p><p>“Yes, yes, yes, that's the one. That's the one.” She clears her throat. “I think you should experience new adventures. You know, do things that you haven't done on earth, right? So why don't we meet tomorrow and try out some new hobbies.” </p><p>Diane blushes. “Uh, why not? I'll... I'll see you guys tomorrow.” </p><p>“Not if I see you first,” snarks Todd. “Where's the beef?” He chuckles. “I don't know. Hump day.”</p>
<hr/><p>With an irritated sigh, he knocks on the door. It’s only a second before Sarah Lynn opens it. “Oh, hey, BoJack! Good to see you! Come in!” </p><p>She frantically gestures for him to come in and he does so. “I just wanted to, uh, repay your gift with one of my own,” he explains, taking a seat on her couch. He presents a cardboard box full of glittering tinsel of various colours. “Christmas decorations. It’s something that I just happened to have a lot of in my house, like your gift, except you can actually put it somewhere, so maybe it’s a better gift. Who’s to say?”</p><p>“Oh,” says Sarah Lynn nonchalantly, taking the gift and walking over to the bin. “Uh, thing is, we’re kind of in a timeless void where it <em> can </em> be Christmas whenever we want it to be, but there’s no <em> official </em> Christmas, and since the best things about Christmas are always the presents and food and we can have those things whenever, decorating is kinda <em> stupid.” </em>She carelessly tips the box into the bin. “Also, I’m Jewish.”</p><p>“...You are?” He raises an eyebrow. “Since when?”</p><p>“Uh, since forever? Ugh, whatevs. Anyway, you’re here, let’s hang. We still haven’t had a chance to talk about all the stupid bullshit that’s been happening here. It’s <em> so </em>stressful.”</p><p>“...Yeah,” says BoJack.</p><p>“What do you think is causing it?”</p><p>“...Oh, I’m <em> sure </em>I don’t know.”</p><p>“Eh, what can you do? I need a distraction, though. Tomorrow I’m gonna just go door-to-door asking if anyone wants to do heroin with me.”</p><p>His eyes widen. “Heroin?”</p><p>“Well, money isn’t a thing here, and I can’t exactly OD, so why not? I think that getting high and making friends will make me feel like I really <em> belong </em>here, you know?”</p><p>BoJack’s heart skips a beat.</p><p>“Here’s an idea,” he suggests. “Why don’t I go with you? I mean, I would <em> love </em>to try heroin without worrying about the consequences, not to mention get a little bonding time with you, lady.”</p><p>He winks flirtatiously at her and she cringes. “Uh, dude, no. But, you can come, I guess.”</p>
<hr/><p>Ten minutes later, he’s pacing around the living room while ranting. “I'm telling you, Sarah Lynn’s out to get me.” </p><p>“What are you talking about?” asks Diane. </p><p>He takes a piece of paper out of his pocket, the one that says <em> YOU DON’T BELONG HERE. </em> “This note was slipped under my door yesterday. It has to be Sarah Lynn!. She just said to me, ‘I want to feel like I really belong here.’ Well, where have I seen the word <em> belong </em> recently? Oh yeah, kaplow!” </p><p>Diane sighs. “I really don't think she's the type of person who would write this.” </p><p>“She <em> is </em> that kind of person and she did write it. She wants everybody to think she's so <em> rebellious, </em>just 'cause she's tall and sexy and has great hair and curves everywhere... and now I'm complimenting her. And kind of turned on.”</p><p>“...She’s <em> literally </em>young enough to be your daughter.”</p><p>“The point is, she’s <em> actually </em> a saint, and that’s why she’s threatening me -- because she knows I’m not meant to be here, and she wants to get rid of me to save the neighbourhood!” He’s interrupted by a confusing chiming noise, and he turns to see that the award she gave him has now partially melted. “See? Typical Sarah Lynn. This must be one of her super-cool friendly pranks.”</p><p>Diane frowns. “No, I think this is another way in which your negative actions affect this world. This gift represents your relationship to Sarah Lynn, so when you enable her self-destructive behaviour, it starts to melt.” </p><p>“Well, then this statue is <em> doomed </em> , because tomorrow, I'm going with her to try heroin, and it’s gonna be <em> great.” </em>The award, for no apparent reason, begins to make loud sobbing noise. “Yeah. Truth hurts, doesn't it, statue?”</p>
<hr/><p>Late in the afternoon, BoJack wakes up lying on the grass in some hidden corner of the neighbourhood and groans. “Woah, what happened?”</p><p>“You passed out, dickhead. Guess <em> someone </em>can’t handle a little horse.” She bursts into a fit of giggles.</p><p>“Hey, uh…” He frowns. “Prickly-muffin?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Why do you think you got into the Good Place?”</p><p>Sarah Lynn looks upset for a moment, but quickly regains her composure. “I mean, you got in for <em> Horsin’ Around, </em>so I guess that was a bunch of points for me, too. My songs probably helped people in the same way. And, uh, I raised a lot of money for non-profit groups.”</p><p>“Oh, did you ever, uh, skim a little off the top for yourself?”</p><p>“...Sometimes,” she admits. “I mean, you gotta buy drugs somehow, y’know? It’s not like it is here -- there’s withdrawals if you try and quit.”</p><p>“Yeah, I get you. I mean, I’m not an alcoholic, but -- it’s hard, y’know? Being sober. It just -- it gets me all shaky and shit. Even now, I try not to be sober. I don’t like being able to think.”</p><p>“Yeah, me neither. I tried quitting a couple times, but…” She shudders. “Sobriety <em> sucks.” </em></p><p>“Agreed. Sobriety <em> sucks.” </em></p><p>Her eyes widen. “Hmm, do you think I got extra points from times a teenage boy sent me a letter talking about how he masturbated to me and I didn’t freak the hell out?” She frowns. “I’d really hope so. All this sexiness better be worth something -- I’m <em> cursed </em>with huge boobs.”</p><p>BoJack, who is perhaps a little too aware of how big her boobs are considering that she is literally young enough to be his daughter, snarks, “And yet you soldier on.”</p><p>She looks up at the sky. “Y’know, my birth name was Sarah Himmelfarb.”</p><p>“Geez, what a stupid name.”</p><p>“It’s Yiddish. Remember? I’m Jewish. Did you forget that again already?”</p><p>“...No,” he lies.</p><p>“Well, yeah, it’s Yiddish. It means … colour of the sky.”</p><p>“So, blue.”</p><p>“...Yeah, I guess. Blue.”</p>
<hr/><p>Blue was the colour of many things. It was the ocean, the sky, the sweater he wore when he wasn’t at work. It was not the colour of the liquid inside the water bottle he brought to work.</p><p>“Beer,” he said, in response to Sharona’s confused stare. “Want some? I got loads.”</p><p>“Actually, I, uh…” She took a pair of scissors with shaky hands and blushed. “I’m trying to quit.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know, we’re not meant to do it at work. But I mean, you <em> know </em> that I won’t get in trouble, don’t you? There’s <em> loads </em>of people that’ll take the fall for me.”</p><p>“No, I mean…” She cleared her throat. “I’m trying to <em> quit. </em>Like, completely.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s why you’re all shaky and shit.” He frowned. “Why?”</p><p>“I -- I dunno, it’s bad for my body? It makes it hard to make decisions? It’s --”</p><p>“Ugh!” He groaned loudly and slammed his hands onto the desk in frustration. “You’re not <em> better </em>than me because you can go a day without drinking, okay?!”</p><p>“I -- I never said that! I just meant --”</p><p>“Hair. <em> Now.” </em> He glared into the mirror. “And if it’s a mess because you’re shaking, you’re <em> gonna </em>be sorry.”</p>
<hr/><p>She pushes Diane forward, nudging her toward the edge of the cliff so that she can properly see the entire neighbourhood. “This is the perfect hobby for you, Diane. Cartography. Your neighborhood stretches way beyond what you've already seen. And you can map it, revealing all of the mysteries, like an explorer.” </p><p>“I see how that might be fun,” says Diane, frowning at the half.-drawn map in her hands. “Uh, but, uh -- where did this paper come from? Did we cut down trees to make it?”</p><p>“No, Todd just summoned it with magic. Nothing has consequences here, remember?”</p><p>“But…” Her frown deepens. “If I go exploring the neighbourhood, will I actually <em> discover </em>anything? Or will I just ‘discover’ places that are already inhabited by, I don’t know, indigenous angels or something? I don’t wanna be Christopher Columbus.” </p><p>"Fun fact,” chimes Todd. “Columbus is in the Bad Place because of all the raping, slave trade, and genocide.” </p><p>“That’s <em> impossible,” </em>insists Princess Carolyn. “Todd and I created the neighbourhood from scratch, so nobody could have been here first. Besides, do you really want to keep going with that book? It’s kind of beating a dead horse.”</p><p>“Feeding a fed horse.”</p><p>She frowns. “Huh?”</p><p>“The phrase ‘beating a dead horse’ comes from when horses were worked to death in farms. You shouldn’t say it.” </p><p>“Fun fact,” chimes Todd. <em> “Feeding a Fed Horse </em>is also coincidentally the name of a fanfiction.”</p><p>Princess Carolyn forces a chuckle. “Yeah, sorry about this. I steered him away from colloquialisms and into <em> fun facts </em> and trivia tidbits. I thought it'd be more in his wheelhouse.” </p><p>“Fun fact: a wheelhouse is a part of a boat.” </p><p>“Okay, thank you, Todd, thank you.” </p><p>“Fun fact: Todd is me.” </p><p>Princess Carolyn sighs. “All right, let's forget about exploring.” She clasps her hands together excitedly. “Plenty more ideas for hobbies!”</p>
<hr/><p>She proudly presents a newspaper displaying a picture of Diane. “Extra, extra! Read all about you. Diane, this is the perfect hobby for you. Journalism!”</p><p>Diane hesitates. “Well, obviously, I like to write. But, I mean, what will I write about? This is paradise, and people only read news stories if they have clickbait-y titles about bad things happening.”</p><p>“Well…” She waves a hand dismissively. “You could always make up some stories.”</p><p>“I do <em> not </em>like lying.”</p><p>“Yes, I know. Uh, you once went on a huge rant about how much you hate Starbucks, didn’t you? While you were at work, at Starbucks.” She sighs. “Look, Diane, I'm just trying to find you a hobby…” </p><p>“Those glasses…” interrupts Todd. </p><p>“...that will bring you a positive experience!” She frowns at Todd. “What did you say?” </p><p>“I'm loving those glasses on you. They would look even better on my floor… after they fell off during a really intense game of <em> Mario Kart!” </em> </p><p>Diane frowns. “What is happening now?” </p><p>“I suggested he be friendlier; he seems to have slipped right into overtly sexual comments that then turn out to be an innocent bait-and-switch.” </p><p>Todd winks. “I got something you can slip into.”</p><p>Princess Carolyn sighs. “Is it a sleeping bag?”</p><p>Todd blushes, attempting to hide a sleeping bag behind his back. “...No.”</p>
<hr/><p>“Well, that was fun.” She saunters into her living room. “I kinda got grass on my ass, though. I’m gonna go take a shower. You can stay, I guess.”</p><p>BoJack frowns as Sarah Lynn exits the room. He also, coincidentally, has grass on his ass, along with on a good chunk of the rest of his body. He also needs a shower. He should probably go home and shower.</p><p>...Or not.</p><p>Hesitantly, he opens one of Sarah Lynn’s drawers. Inside is a purple spiral notebook. He turns the cover and sees, on the lined paper, writing that says <em> Sarah Lynn’s Diary.  </em></p><p>He frowns. The writing looks familiar -- but he’s seen her handwriting evolve from when she squiggled her first autograph at age three, of <em> course </em> anything written by her will look a little familiar. He would be able to tell for sure if he had a point of comparison, but of <em> course, </em>stupid Diane insisted that he leave the note at home.</p><p>He hesitates. He glances around, searching for witnesses.</p><p>He takes the diary.</p>
<hr/><p>“Okay,” she suggests, handing Diane a blowtorch. “Arc welding. You could learn sculpture, you can make furniture, you can get your hands a little greasy, you know, and you make things.” </p><p>Diane’s eyes widen. “This equipment is very dangerous! Should I be using it without training?”</p><p>“Don't be a baby,” snaps Todd. “It can't hurt you. Watch, I'll blowtorch your face off.” </p><p>He moves the blowtorch toward Diane’s face, making her cringe, but Princess Carolyn holds him back. “Todd.”</p><p>“Whatever. This whole thing is stupid.” </p><p>“Oh, fish.” She groans. “I told him to be less flirty and now he's cruel and distant, apparently. I just can't get this right.” </p><p>Diane clears her throat. “Thank you for trying to find me a new hobby. Um, but I just want to be a writer. I want to keep working on my manuscript.”</p><p>Princess Carolyn grimaces. “Diane, here's the thing... see, I read your whole book, all three thousand, six hundred pages of it. It's, um... how shall I put this?” </p><p>“It's a mess, dude.” says Todd. </p><p>“Hey!” protests Diane. </p><p>“He's right,” says Princess Carolyn grimly. “You see, Diane, I can read the entirety of the world's literature in about an hour.” She holds up a stack of pages. “This took me <em> two weeks </em>to get through. I mean, it's so convoluted, I just kept reading the same paragraph over and over again, trying to figure out what the heck you were saying.” </p><p>Diane’s face falls.</p><p>“I mean,” she continues. “on page one thousand, you start section two with the sentence, ‘Of course, the exact opposite might be true.’ You're a brilliant author, Diane. But you just kept revising and rewriting and adding words to your title -- how can it be definitive if it’s part one? I think you just twisted yourself up into a knot.”</p><p>Diane sighs. “...Okay.”</p>
<hr/><p>When he arrives home with a suspiciously diary-shaped bulge under his sweater, he sees Diane staring dejectedly at the ground. He frowns. “You okay?”</p><p>“Am I a good teacher?” she asks. “Am I clear? Do I make sense?” </p><p>“Yeah, you're a great teacher. I'm super ethical now.” </p><p>Diane catches sight of the suspiciously diary-shaped bulge. “What's that?” </p><p>“...Don't worry about it.”</p><p>There’s a long, painful silence.</p><p>“I stole Sarah Lynn’s diary.” At her incredulous look, he quickly adds, “So I could see if her handwriting matches the note!” </p><p>The acting award Sarah Lynn gave him suddenly bursts into flames. “Huh. What do you think that means?” </p><p>Diane groans. “You stole her diary?!” </p><p>“I know I broke some ethical rule, but I had good reason!” </p><p>“BoJack, in order to be a good person, you have to do good things.” She frantically bangs her chalk on the blackboard. “And not stealing people's stuff, that is just a basic kindergarten rule. I mean, do I also have to tell you to not throw sand?” </p><p>“First of all, throwing sand is an excellent way to put out a vodka fire.” </p><p>“Why would you even know that?”</p><p>“Second of all, I know that it may not be nice, but neither is trying to sacrifice me to fix the neighbourhood without asking me, like Sarah Lynn! She wrote that note.” </p><p>“No, she didn't! You did!” She sighs. “I was hoping you would come to this conclusion on your own, but, obviously, no one here would ever threaten you. That note is the Good Place manifesting your own guilt. Like with the award, or when you literally made giant beer bottles roll down the street.” </p><p>“...I wrote myself the note.” His eyes widen. “And as it turns out, I do belong here. Because I'm just as good as everyone else.” </p><p>“No, no, no. No, you don't belong here. And in this place, everyone is better than you. It has been proven by an infallible formula.” She takes a step toward him. “Look, I’ll be honest, I was suspicious of Sarah Lynn at first. But I did some thinking, and, well -- she might be a little rude -- okay, <em> very </em>rude -- and maybe she had some drug problems, but she helped so many people. She didn’t get the help she needed in her life, but she’s a good person. I’ve accepted that. Can you?”</p><p>BoJack says nothing. </p>
<hr/><p>He stormed into the hair and makeup room and slammed a bottle of vodka onto the counter. “My hair was a <em> mess </em>yesterday -- come on, drink up.”</p><p>Sharona hesitated.</p><p>“Come <em> on, </em>dude. This is, like, alcohol 101. You have a shitty childhood, you drink to forget, you surround yourself with sycophants and enablers and probably die young or some shit. Why are you trying so hard to postpone that?”</p><p>“Shouldn’t I <em> try?” </em> asked Sharona, moving a hesitant hand toward the bottle. “Shouldn’t I <em> try </em>to do what’s best for myself?”</p><p>“Why? It’s so much harder to live like that. Just drink up so my hair can be good.”</p><p>Sharona hesitated, then took several gulps of the liquid.</p>
<hr/><p>“...I’m an alcoholic.”</p><p>Diane looks up. “What?”</p><p>“Or, I was, at least. I don’t know if you can really <em> be </em> addicted to things in the Good Place, but I was an alcoholic on Earth, at least. Probably here too, honestly.” He gestures toward a pile of empty bottles that he’s amassed during his first few days, that he still hasn’t gotten around to throwing out. “And I could never admit it before now, so whenever I see other addicts I weirdly idolize and enable them, because if it’s okay for <em> them </em>then it’s okay for me. That’s why world-famous complete-wreck-Sarah Lynn is like my kryptonite.”</p><p>“Well, even admitting that is an important step.” Her face falls. “And also, maybe don't listen to me.” </p><p>“I would <em> love </em>not to listen to you.” He frowns. “Wait, what?” </p><p>“Basically, my life's work is thirty-six hundred  pages of garbage. Even Princess Carolyn couldn't understand it.” </p><p>“So?” scoffs BoJack. “What does Princess Carolyn know?” </p><p>“Everything. That's my point... she knows everything, and it was too convoluted, even for her.”</p><p>He places a hand on her shoulder. “She does <em> not </em>know everything. She does not know I'm not supposed to be here. You wrote four thousand pages on one of the most complicated subjects in the world! I mean, my autobiography never got past the ‘early planning stages’.” He forces a smile. “Be proud.”</p><p>“...Yeah.” She smiles. “I think I’m gonna talk to her tomorrow about re-writing it.”</p><p>“That’s great!” He sighs. “I’m gonna go try and return Sarah Lynn’s diary without her noticing.”</p><p>She narrows her eyes. “You know, the <em> real </em>ethical thing to do would be to come clean about everything and apologise sincerely.”</p><p>“...That’s nice. I’m gonna go try and return Sarah Lynn’s diary without her noticing.”</p>
<hr/><p>When he glances around at the living room through the window, it’s empty. She must still be having that shower. That’s the only possible explanation for the fact that she fails to hear him opening the window, or the thud a second later as he falls through it. He hurriedly finds the drawer that he first stole the diary from, and returns it neatly. He’s about to leave when he hears it.</p><p>Someone sobbing.</p><p>He hesitates. Does Sarah Lynn know he’s gone home already? She told him he could wait for her to finish showering if he wanted to, but if she’s already seen that he’s left, he’ll have to explain himself…</p><p>He takes a deep breath, and knocks on the door.</p><p>“Oh!” Her voice has that peculiar quality of one who has only recently managed to quell their tears and is now trying to pretend everything is fine. “BoJack?”</p><p>“Yeah. It’s me.”</p><p>“Oh, uh… come in, I guess.”</p><p>He pushes the door open. Sarah Lynn is sitting on a large armchair, her eyes still red and puffy. “You okay?”</p><p>“...Yeah.” He can tell she’s lying.</p><p>“Do you, uh…” He sits across from her. “Do you wanna talk about it?”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess. That’d be nice.” She lies back on the armchair. “When I was a kid, if you’d told me I’d have gotten into freakin’ <em> Heaven, </em> I’d never have believed it. And now I’ve done it, and…” The rest of the sentence dissolves in her mouth and she looks like she’s just been punched in the gut. “...BoJack, I don’t like <em> anything </em>about me.”</p><p>“...Huh?”</p><p>“None of this is <em> me. </em> I <em> hate </em> it. I -- I spent my whole life just, just wanting to <em> die </em> to get away from it all, and now I am dead and I’m in Heaven, and it’s still -- it <em> sucks, </em> BoJack.” She sniffles. “You have no idea how it feels to be in freakin’ Heaven, and everything’s still <em> wrong.” </em></p><p>“...I may not know <em> exactly </em>how you feel,” says BoJack carefully. “But I do understand. And you deserve to be happy, because…” He takes a deep breath. “You’re an impressive, thoughtful, and special person. Not to mention, you have a rockin’ bod.”</p><p>Sarah Lynn cringes. </p><p>“You have all of eternity here,” he continues. “You might not be happy yet, but there’s plenty of time for that to change! Like -- here.” He stands up. “We can do literally <em> anything. </em>Just name something that’ll make you feel better, and I’ll get Todd to summon it and I’ll do it with you.”</p><p>She pouts childishly. “I want more drugs.”</p><p>“No! You can’t just get high every time you feel bad. That’s -- that’s not <em> helping.” </em></p><p>“Then…” She thinks for a moment. “Can we go to a planetarium?”</p><p>Back in BoJack’s home, an acting award regains its original shape and gains a glow that fills the entire room.</p>
<hr/><p>He’s sitting on a bench, reading one of those stupid-ass books Diane likes, when Sarah Lynn takes it upon herself to sit next to him. “Hey, BJ.”</p><p>“BJ?” he repeats, frowning. “Nobody calls me BJ. Except --”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I call you BJ now.” </p><p>His heart skips a beat as he notices Princess Carolyn and Todd in the distance, following Sarah Lynn toward him. “What's up?” he asks. </p><p>“Well,” explains Princess Carolyn. “Todd has been acting as my assistant. It's not what he was designed to do, didn't go great.” </p><p>“But now I'm back to normal,” says Todd. “It turns out that the best Todd was the Todd that was inside Todd all along.” </p><p>“He was feeling a little lost, so I gave him a self-help book to restore his confidence.” </p><p>“Now I'm living my truth and creating my bliss.” </p><p>Sarah Lynn clears her throat. “Anyway, um, look, PC asked me if I would be her assistant, but I kinda needed some me-time to figure stuff out, y’know? And you were super helpful to me yesterday, so…” She giggles. </p><p>“BoJack,” says Princess Carolyn. “you and I could work side-by-side to figure out what's going wrong with this neighborhood. Will you help me?”</p><p>BoJack’s heart skips a beat. He <em> can’t </em> help her find the problem, obviously -- that would mean his discovery and subsequently being sent to the Bad Place. He <em> can’t </em> go to the Bad Place. But, Sarah is giving him <em> that </em>look…</p><p>He sighs. “How could I say no?”</p>
<hr/><p>He shivers.</p><p><em> Another </em> note. Just as he’d figured out what it was, his explanation had been disproved. No more vague threats from his own subconscious -- the note that had slipped under his door after Diane retired to bed was one with a tangible request, and why would his own subconscious do that? The note told him to meet at the town square at midnight, with whoever was sending it. So it’s now a little after eleven at night, it’s goddamn <em> freezing -- </em>seriously, why is it so cold in the Good Place?! -- and he’s pacing toward the town square.</p><p>“BoJack, buddy! Good to see you!”</p><p>He turns sharply at the familiar voice, and sees Mr. Peanutbutter walking toward him. “Y -- <em> You!” </em>he chokes, frantically waving the piece of paper. “You sent me these threatening notes? What the hell, man?”</p><p>“You don't belong here,” says Mr. Peanutbutter cheerfully. “Admit it.” </p><p>“Okay, you're right. I don't belong here. Princess Carolyn made a mistake. But I'm <em> trying </em>, dude. I'm really trying to be a better person. And I think I'm changing for the better, so just please, please don't rat me out.”</p><p>“Rat you out?” He laughs. “What do you mean, <em> rat you out? </em>Aha, I won’t tell any of the other residents. Don’t worry -- I don’t belong here either!”</p><p>BoJack frowns. “You … don’t?”</p><p>“Of course not!” He’s still unusually cheerful, given the circumstances. “I belong in <em> exactly </em>the same place as you.”</p><p>“So…” He blinks. “You don’t belong in the Good Place?”</p><p>“Nope!” He smiles, placing a hand on BoJack’s shoulder. “I belong in the Best Place, just like you do.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Mr. Peanutbutter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mr. Peanutbutter starts to doubt himself.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He blinks. “Wait, what?”</p><p>“We belong in the Best Place,” continues Mr. Peanutbutter. “And trust me, we’ll get there!”</p><p>“Wait a second, hang on, back up.” He frowns. “The Best Place?”</p><p>“Well, I assume you already know what I’m talking about, but I’m going to explain anyway.” He clears his throat. “The Best Place is a place that’s like the Good Place, but even <em> better, </em> for the <em> true </em>cream of the crop.”</p><p>BoJack narrows his eyes. “The <em> Best </em>Place? You think you’re the ‘true cream of the crop’?”</p><p>“Of course I am!”</p><p><em> “What?!” </em> He groans. “Can -- Can you not see how that’s <em> ridiculous? </em>I mean, how many lives did you save?!”</p><p>“Well, I once successfully brought a plane from Canada to California, and nobody got hurt, so I guess that counts!”</p><p>BoJack raises an eyebrow. “You successfully brought a plane from Canada to California?”</p><p>“Yeah, I just walked into a room and it all sort of ended up happening.” At BoJack’s incredulous look, he adds, “I’m from Labrador Peninsula, Canada. It happens a lot.”</p><p>BoJack slaps himself in the forehead. “And you know about this ‘Best Place’ because … ?”</p><p>“Oh, I figured it out,” he answers nonchalantly. “I assumed that was what you were talking about when you told me you don’t belong here.”</p><p>BoJack freezes. “I told you I don’t belong here?”</p><p>“Oh, yes! On the first night.”</p><hr/><p>“Hey.” He nudged Mr. Peanutbutter drunkenly. “Hey, Mr. Peanutbutter. Wanna -- wanna know a secret?”</p><p>“Sure, I would <em> love </em>to hear a secret from my best friend BoJack!”</p><p><em> “I don’t belong here.” </em>He laughed. “They made a mistake. Total phony.”</p><hr/><p>“Okay, I <em> vaguely </em>remember that…”</p><p>“I figured out what you meant!” says Mr. Peanutbutter proudly. “Don’t get me wrong, everyone else here is <em> good, </em> but we’re the <em> true </em>cream of the crop.”</p><p>“...Yep,” says BoJack through gritted teeth. “Cream of the crop.”</p><hr/><p>He gulps as he walks into Mr. Peanutbutter’s house. “Pretty … <em> unique </em>decorating style you’ve got here.” He eyes several pictures of half-naked women. “It’s like … twelve-year-old boy meets thirteen-year-old boy.”</p><p>“I choose to take that as a compliment!” He beams. “Todd helped me get all this stuff. He <em> rules. </em>Is he single, or is he married to Princess Carolyn?”</p><p>“What? <em> No!” </em>He groans. “You can’t date Todd. He’s not even human!”</p><p>“Oh yeah.”</p><p>BoJack sighs. “Look, let’s, uh -- let’s hang out later. I got a class to get to.”</p><p>“A class?” He tilts his head. “I didn’t know there were classes.”</p><p>“Diane is trying to teach me to be a better person…” He catches himself just in time. “So that I can be sure that I’ll get into the Best Place. And Princess Carolyn asked me to be her assistant, whatever <em> that </em>means.” He hesitates, and glances at a large framed photo of a woman he vaguely recognizes as Katrina. “You could, uh. You could come if you want?”</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter scoffs. “I appreciate the offer, but <em> completely </em>not necessary.” He flashes a grin. “I’m already a good person!”</p><hr/><p>He hung his jacket on a hook as he walked in, and the hooks immediately fell to the ground. Rather than attempt to put them back, he put it in his mental list of things that he would do later, which in practice was more like a mental list of things that invariably ended up being Katrina’s job. “Fun party, don’t you think?”</p><p>“Yeah, it was,” Katrina admitted. Just as quickly she added, “No thanks to you.” She crossed her arms, suddenly losing all of the relaxation that she had gained from the fun.</p><p>“What are you talking about?” asked Mr. Peanutbutter in overexaggerated innocence.</p><p>“I <em> told </em>you not to leave me alone,” she snapped. “Just like I told you at BoJack’s Halloween party, and at your family’s Christmas party, and at every other party we’ve been to between then and August 1994, which is the current month.”</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter grimaced. “Okay, maybe I left you alone a bit. Or a lot. Or for the entire party. But, in my defense --”</p><p>“You <em> never </em> listen!” She groaned. <em> “Every </em> time we go out, it’s <em> always </em> the same problem! <em> Every time! </em> None of this would <em> ever </em> happen if you just learned to <em> listen </em>to me!”</p><p>He pouted. “Why are you so angry? It turned out okay.”</p><p>“Yes, because I <em> happened </em> to run into someone I knew. But you can’t just do this every time! You can’t just <em> break </em>your promises!”</p><p>“I only left you because my best friend BoJack needed help!” he protested. “He was in a <em> really </em>awkward social situation! If he wasn’t talking to me all night, he would have had to explain to Brad why someone got fired!”</p><p>“That was <em> entirely </em> his fault!” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Besides, <em> promising </em> you won’t leave my side doesn’t mean you stick by me until something else pops up, it means you have to <em> prioritise </em>me!” She sighed. “Why do I even bother…”</p><p>“But if I hadn’t left you alone, you wouldn’t have re-united with your old friend,” he insists. “So really, it was all for the best.”</p><p>“...Yeah. Whatever.”</p><hr/><p>“So,” continues Diane. “the concept of the self is a key subject for a lot of great thinkers. In the <em> Tao Te Ching, </em>Lao Tzu wrote, ‘Knowing others is wisdom, but knowing the self is enlightenment.’” </p><p>BoJack smirks. “Ahh, <em> knowing </em>yourself. Is he talking about what I think he's talking about?” </p><p>“No, BoJack. Once again, none of these philosophers is ever talking about masturbation.” She sighs. “Let's move on to this week's main event, David Hume's <em> A Treatise of Human Nature.” </em>She holds up the book. “You read this, right?” </p><p>“I did,” he lies. “Well, I tried to. Well, I tried to want to.”</p><p>Diane opens her mouth to launch into a speech about how he should <em> really </em>be putting more effort in, but she’s interrupted by the door clicking open. BoJack can’t quite manage to suppress his groan when he sees the visitor. Diane blushes. “Hi, Mr. Peanutbutter.”</p><p>“Hi, Donna.” She opens his mouth to correct him and he cuts her off. “BoJack, good to see you!”</p><p>“Hi,” says BoJack through gritted teeth. “What brings you here?”</p><p>“Just thought I might drop by,” he answers, throwing an obvious wink in BoJack’s direction. “You know, to see my <em> best pal </em> BoJack. Since he and I <em> belong --” </em>another painfully obvious wink -- “in the same place.”</p><p>Diane blinks. “Uh, what?”</p><p>“What are you <em> talking </em> about?” he scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m just enjoying a nice, <em> normal </em>conversation with my best pal BoJack.”</p><p>BoJack groans. “So, um,” he says loudly in an attempt at changing the subject. “Are you going to that lunch thing tomorrow? Apparently some chef is opening a restaurant with a really annoying name.”</p><p><em> “The Good Plates, </em>yeah,” says Diane. “Sarah Lynn and I are helping out. I’ll be the waitress.”</p><p>“And I’ll be there as well,” adds Mr. Peanutbutter. “Oh, maybe I could sit with you guys! That would be <em> so </em>fun!”</p><p>“...Yeah,” lies BoJack.</p><p>“Yeah,” says Diane, as her face grows a deeper shade of red. “You can sit with us.”</p><p>BoJack’s ears perk up. “Hang on. Hey, Mr. Peanutbutter, could you just give Diane and me a couple minutes alone to talk? I swear we’re not gonna talk shit about you.”</p><p>“What a highly suspicious thing to say,” replies Mr. Peanubutter innocently. “Of course! I’ll just stay here in the living room.”</p><p>Before Diane can protest, BoJack pulls her into his bedroom, and the door closes behind them with an irritating chime of circus music. “Okay,” he begins. “I can explain.”</p><p>There’s a long, painful silence.</p><p>“I don’t want to explain, though.”</p><p>“Well, you kind of have to.”</p><p>He sighs. “Okay, so, apparently on the first night here when I was <em> super </em> drunk, I told Mr. Peanutbutter that I don’t belong here. And of course, for some stupid reason he took that to mean that there’s <em> another </em> place that’s better than here called the Best Place, and he thinks that I belong <em> there </em>and so does he.”</p><p>“The <em> Best </em> Place?” She raises an eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great guy, but I mean -- how much good would you have to do to get a place <em> better </em> than this? You’d have to, I don’t know, be <em> personally </em>responsible for saving the planet or something.”</p><p>“Here’s the crazy part.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “I think he <em> actually </em>belongs in the Bad Place.”</p><p>Her eyes widen. “What? No!”</p><p>“Trust me, you don’t know him like I do, okay?” He sighs. “I mean, <em> how </em> did he get into the Good Place? Sure, he’s polite, but <em> every </em> good thing that’s happened in relation to him has been pure luck. I <em> saw </em> his relationship with his first wife fall apart because he never <em> listens </em>, and I feel like it was going the same way with his second wife before he died. Besides, he called you Donna.”</p><p>“That’s not <em> his </em> fault,” she insists. “He barely knows me! And there’s no way <em> all </em>the good things he did were just luck.”</p><p>“I’m serious! He just does the <em> stupidest </em> bullshit trying to see what will happen, and somehow it <em> always </em>works out for him!”</p><p>“That’s <em> ridiculous!” </em></p><p>BoJack’s rebuttal is interrupted by a loud crashing noise, followed by Mr. Peanutbutter asking for help. He hurriedly opens the door to see the living room, and discovers that the couch is on fire.</p><p>“Holy shit!” he yells. “What the hell happened?!”</p><p>“I accidentally made a Molotov cocktail,” explains Mr. Peanutbutter. After a pause, he adds, “Hey, don’t blame me! I just wanted to know what would happen.”</p><p>“Ugh!” Diane frantically attempts to smother the flames with her jacket. “We need a plan!”</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter’s ears perk up. “Oh, I know! We hack into Princess Carolyn’s phone, download all her nudes, and then blackmail her!”</p><p>“No,” says BoJack. “What are you -- no!”</p><p>“Hey, you should listen to me! I came up with hundreds of plans in my life, and only one of them got me killed!”</p><p>Diane clears her throat. “Todd?”</p><p>“Hooray!” says Todd as he materialises, once again directly behind BoJack.</p><p>BoJack jumps and turns to face him. “Can you put this fire out?”</p><p>The flames and accompanying singe marks vanish with a satisfying <em> bing </em>noise, and Todd exits the room with the same noise. </p><p>“Okay,” says Mr. Peanutbutter. “I’m not <em> gay </em>or anything, but I kinda wanna have sex with him.”</p><hr/><p>He hung his jacket on a hook as he walked in, and the hooks immediately fell to the ground. Rather than attempt to put them back, he put it in his mental list of things that he would do later, which in practice was more like a mental list of things that invariably ended up being Jessica’s job. “Fun party, don’t you think?”</p><p>“No!” she yelled, folding her arms over her body. </p><p>“What are you <em> talking </em>about?” asked Mr. Peanutbutter in overexaggerated innocence.</p><p>“You <em> said </em> it would be okay. You <em> said </em>it would be fine!”</p><p>“How was I supposed to predict that everything would go so wrong?” he says defensively. “It was an Easter party.”</p><p><em> “Why </em>was there a mummy at an Easter party?!”</p><p>“Honestly, I’m just as confused as you are about that.”</p><p>“I <em> told </em>you not to check in advance just in case there was a mummy.” Jessica snapped. “Just like I told you at BoJack’s Halloween party, and at your family’s Christmas party, and at every other party we’ve been to between then and March 2005, which is the current month.”</p><p>“Oh, <em> come </em>on,” he protested. “How was I meant to know that there would be a mummy there?!”</p><p>“You weren’t meant to <em> know, </em> you were meant to <em> check. </em> Like I <em> asked </em> you to.” She groaned. <em> “Every </em> time we go out, it’s <em> always </em> the same problem! <em> Every time! </em> None of this would <em> ever </em> happen if you just learned to <em> listen </em>to me!”</p><p>He pouted. “Why are you so angry? It turned out okay.”</p><p>“Yes, because I <em> happened </em> to get away from the mummy before I could freak out. But you can’t just do this every time! You can’t just <em> break </em>your promises!”</p><p>“Hey, in my defense, the only reason I didn't check in advance was because I’ve been really busy lately! I had to help BoJack explain to Brad why someone got fired.”</p><p>“That was <em> entirely </em> his fault!” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Besides, <em> promising </em> you’ll check for mummies doesn’t mean you do it as long as nothing else pops up, it means you have to <em> prioritise </em>me!” She sighed. “Why do I even bother talking to you? You’re never gonna change.”</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter whimpered. “Your words are so harsh! They hit my ears like boxing gloves of sadness!”<br/><br/>“Very poetic,” deadpanned Jessica, before stomping upstairs.</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter frowned. “Gee, I wonder what she’s so upset about.”</p><hr/><p>Glasses klink.</p><p>“Welcome,” says Sarah Lynn proudly, as the instrumental version of <em> Prickly Muffin </em> booms in the background. “To the opening of <em> The Good Plates!” </em>Her eyes widen. “Oh my gosh, I just got the joke!” she chuckles.</p><p>“Thank you,” says Princess Carolyn, stepping in front of her to cut off her speech. “Anyway, at some point or another, every resident in this neighborhood will fulfill his or her soul's true purpose. Chef Patricia has done that tonight by opening this restaurant. Now if you'd all like to take a look at tonight's menus…” </p><p>BoJack opens the menu that Diane handed to him. It has only a single page, and on that page in a large font is printed the words <em> YOUR FAVOURITE MEAL. </em></p><p>“That's right,” continues Princess Carolyn. “With my help, Chef Patricia has recreated each person's favorite meal on Earth. Later this evening, we will be enjoying Chef Patricia's delicious dessert, a stunning three-tiered cake that took her a full week to complete. But first, I'd like to try something fun. Each one of you has a very special memory attached to the meal you're eating. Why don't we go around the room and share our stories? Who'd like to begin?” </p><p>“I'll start, Princess Carolyn,” says a skinny, lanky frog that BoJack thinks is named Charley WItherspoon. He clears his throat. “One day, I wasn't feeling so great, so I made myself a bowl of this chicken soup…”</p><p>Diane comes by BoJack’s table holding three plates, each with a large grey plate cover concealing the food. She places one in front of the empty chair that she plans to occupy after she’s done waiting, and the other two in front of BoJack and Mr. Peanutbutter. BoJack eagerly opens his, only to discover that it’s empty. He gives her an expectant look and she shrugs.</p><p>“Todd told me your favourite meal was the hunger strike you went on in 1974 for children’s rights.”</p><p>“The hunger strike I -- oh.” His eyes widen in realisation. “That was a tantrum I threw when I was ten because I had some weird idea that if I just <em> showed </em>them how bad they were making me feel then my parents would stop being assholes.” He pauses. “Honestly, that might actually be my favourite meal.” He frowns. “Why does your nametag say Blarn?”</p><p>“It’s sort of an inside joke,” she explains. “Uh, with myself.” </p><p>She goes off to get the meals for the other guests, and Charley Witherspoon finishes his story. “And that’s how this simple soup saved over ten thousand lives.”</p><p>“Ugh,” moans BoJack. “Everyone here is so goddamned <em> perfect. </em>It’s annoying.”</p><p>“Hey, we’re just as good as them!” says Mr. Peanutbutter reassuringly. “In fact, maybe we’re <em> better! </em> I would even go so far as to say that we’re the <em> best, </em>and that’s why we’re going to… oh.” He looks at his meal. “...Oh.” His face falls.</p><p>“What?” asks BoJack.</p><p>“This is, uh. This is the best meal-related memory I have?” He frowns. “I think it is…”</p><p>“What?” repeats BoJack irritably.</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter gulps. “It’s, uh. It’s a cake.” It is, indeed, a cake -- a chocolate one, with intricate patterns painted all over it in yellow icing. “I got it for Jessica Biel. As, you know, an apology gift.”</p><p>BoJack tilts his head. “An apology gift?”</p><p>“Yeah. I…” He gulps. “I cheated on her.”</p><p>“Oh.” He forces a smile. “Well, that’s not so bad --”</p><p>“With Katrina.”</p><p>“...Oh.” He gulps. “And, then you gave her the cake as an apology gift, and it all turned out okay?”</p><p>“That was the plan.” He sighs. “Except, I hadn’t told her it was an apology gift, or that I’d cheated on her. The plan was that I’d give her the cake, tell her I needed to talk to her, and we’d sit down together eating it, and hopefully she’d be enjoying the cake too much to be really mad at me. Except… I chickened out at the last minute. Instead of telling her the truth, I -- I <em> proposed </em>to her!”</p><p>“...Oof,” says BoJack.</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter sniffles. “Oh my God, I can’t -- what’s <em> wrong </em> with me? Oh my -- no <em> wonder </em>Katrina divorced me, no wonder Jessica hated me, I --” He gulps. “BoJack, does this make me a bad person?”</p><p>“...You want me to say no,” says BoJack after a long pause. “I know, I’ve been there. Except, here’s the thing, it <em> does </em> make you a bad person, okay? Just like all the shitty things <em> I </em> did make <em> me </em>a bad person.” Mr. Peanutbutter’s face falls and he rushes to reassure him. “But, I mean, you can become a better person! This doesn’t mean you have to go to the Bad Place, okay?”</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter sniffles. “Okay.”</p><p>They all go around telling stories of how their favourite meal ended up saving an improbably large amount of lives. When Princess Carolyn calls on Mr. Peanutbutter, he freezes. It takes him an abnormally long time to stand up, and BoJack quickly goes to the back room, where Diane is preparing to take the final meals to the guests.</p><p>“Peanutbutter’s freaking out,” he pants. “His, uh -- his meal is related to some really shitty thing he did to his wives, and he just realised he’s meant to be in the Bad Place, and we <em> need </em>a distraction.”</p><p>Diane blinks. “What?”</p><p>“I’ll explain later, we -- we <em> need a distraction!” </em></p><p>His eyes fall on the tall, perfectly decorated cake that the chef made. Diane notices the look in his eyes and pales. “No, no, no, no, no. BoJack, Chef Patricia poured her heart and soul into this. Destroying it would be a truly cruel act.” </p><p>“Yeah, no durr.”</p><p>Before she can stop him, he punches a large hole into the top of the cake. There’s a loud rumbling noise from underneath them, and before they can ask what’s going on, they hear Princess Carolyn’s voice. </p><p>“Sinkhole! Everyone out, there’s a sinkhole!”</p><p>Amongst the screaming of all the guests, BoJack and Diane go back out to the main dining area. There’s a large hole in the middle of the room, opening up to the ground below. As they rush outside to safety, they just manage to see Charley Witherspoon fall into it.</p><p>Diane nudged BoJack in the ribs, hard. “You <em> broke the world!” </em>He opens his mouth to say something and she cuts him off, “Not a compliment!”</p><p>But as they make their way through the scared crowds, trying to get home, they catch sight of Mr. Peanutbutter. He makes his way over to them, and says, in an uncharacteristically sincere voice, “Thanks, BoJack.”</p><hr/><p>“What’s wrong, dog?”</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter sighed. “I walked into a <em> Horsin’ Around </em>shooting at the wrong time and BoJack’s threatening to sue.”</p><p>“Wonderful,” said Katrina dryly.</p><p>“I just want to be his friend. I guess I’m trying too hard. I can’t afford to keep chasing him around, it could cost me all my dreams in life!”</p><p>Katrina raised an eyebrow. “You have dreams in life?”</p><p>“Of course I do!” he insisted. “I want to be an actor, like BoJack is.”</p><p>“Have you tried … <em> trying?” </em> she suggests. “I mean, it’s 1992, and you haven’t done <em> anything </em>to help you accomplish that goal. You could, I dunno, go to acting school, or audition for something, or … ?”</p><p>“In my experience, the best things in life usually come by complete surprise, with no prompting whatsoever, after you put absolutely no effort into trying to get it.” His ears perked up. “Okay, that patch of grass seems like a nice testing spot. Hand me the thing.”</p><p>Katrina, rolling her eyes, handed him the molotov cocktail. He threw it at the grass. To the surprise of absolutely nobody except himself, it exploded.</p><p>“...Wasn’t my fault.”</p><hr/><p>One long explanation later, BoJack cautiously enters Mr. Peanutbutter’s home, Diane right behind him. They see him rewatching <em> Mr. Peanutbutter’s House </em>for the umpteenth time and Diane frowns. “Uh, aren’t you gonna try and be better? Or at least move some of these posters?” She gestures toward a particularly suggestive photo of Katrina.</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter shakes his head. “I’ve been doing some thinking, and I realised -- there’s <em> nothing </em>wrong with me! Cheating on Jessica was just a bad thing I did, but nobody’s perfect. So I’m fine!”</p><p>BoJack raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re telling me that you cheating on Jessica was the <em> only </em> thing wrong with <em> both </em>of those relationships? There was no -- I don’t know, no patterns of not listening to them?”</p><p>“Nope,” says Mr. Peanutbutter proudly.</p><p>“You sure?” probes Diane. “There’s no underlying patterns that may or may not be related to the fact that your house is literally covered in porn?”</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter shakes his head.</p><p>Diane leans over to BoJack. “So what do we do here?” </p><p>“There's nothing <em> to </em>do. He's just gonna blab and get him and me both sent to The Bad Place. It's hopeless.”</p><p>She sighs. “I can't believe I'm doing this, but, Mr. Peanutbutter, please come to my classroom. I will teach you ethics, like I'm doing with BoJack. And if you work hard and absorb the material, you just might be able to earn your place here.”</p><p>There’s a long, painful silence.</p><p>“No, I'm good.” </p><p>Frustration rising and annoyance at an absolute peak, BoJack marches in front of the TV, blocking the dog’s view of the sitcom. “Dude, Diane is giving you a lifeline right now, and you need to take it because you <em> suck!”  </em></p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter cowers in his seat. “There’s nothing wrong with me…”</p><p>“That’s what <em> I </em> thought, too -- and I spent my whole life a bitter, rude, careless alcoholic that was horrible to everyone around me and threw my best friends under the bus. That's what I'm trying to tell you. We both <em> suck </em>. You know who doesn't suck? Diane.” He gestured to Diane. “She is putting himself in danger to help us, because she, unlike us, is an amazing person.” </p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter pouts. “But -- I didn’t work so hard in life just to get into hell!”</p><p>“You didn't work hard in life at all, shit-for-brains.” </p><p>“I know that everything’s gonna be okay if I just sit tight.”</p><p>“That's a very, very bad idea,” says BoJack in a warning tone. “Do not just hope everything turns out okay. You need to put the effort in, okay? And I do too. And our only hope right now is this kind, selfless, amazing nerd. Think about that.” </p><p>Diane frowns. “Do you have to call me a nerd so much?” </p><p>“I said a lot of other nice things, okay? Toughen up, nerd.” He gives Mr. Peanutbutter an expectant look. “So? Are you gonna put the effort in?”</p><p>There’s a long, ominous silence.</p><p>“...Yeah,” he says finally. “I mean, after Katrina and Jessica both ended up getting hurt because of me, I -- I owe it to them to try and be better.”</p><p>“That’s the spirit,” says Diane, grinning. “Classes start at nine AM tomorrow.”</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter tilts his head. “Uh, time doesn’t really exist here.”</p><p>“Yes, but I’ve got a clock that tells me what time it is. I can come by here and let you know when it’s time, if you want.”</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter smiles. “Yeah, that would be nice.”</p><p>The two lean closer to each other; Mr. Peanutbutter averts his eyes, while Diane blushes furiously. BoJack frowns, but ultimately says nothing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Category 55 Emergency Doomsday Crisis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>With the sinkhole situation worsening, everyone is confined to their homes. BoJack and Diane fight; Sarah Lynn discovers something that throws her off-balance.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw for emotional child abuse, implications of CSA, and mentions of eating disorders (as well as someone being an absolute cunt to someone who had an eating disorder)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Diane clicks her chalk against the board. “So, to sum up: Utilitarianism posits that the correct choice is the one that causes the most good or pleasure, and the least pain and suffering.” </p><p>“I like this one,” says BoJack. “It's simple. Ugh, screw all the other complicated theories, why didn't you start with this one?” </p><p>“Ah, but here's the problem. If all that matters is the sum total of <em> goodness </em>, then you can justify any number of bad actions, like torturing one innocent person to save a hundred, or preemptive war…”</p><p>“Doggy doggy <em> what </em>now?” asks Mr. Peanutbutter, tilting his head. “Oh, wait, I get it. It's like -- I knew this girl Sheila? She was a black market alligator dealer with a pierced jawbone.” </p><p>Diane blinks. “Um, okay, what?” </p><p>“Sheila was gonna get married to my brother, Captain Peanutbutter and make him move to Sarasota. It would've broken up my whole family! So I hid a bunch of stolen boogie boards in Sheila's garage and called the cops.” At their perplexed looks, he adds, “I framed one innocent gator dealer to save an entire family. I’m Canadian, it happens a lot.”</p><p>“Shockingly,” says Diane. “that is a relevant example of the Utilitarian dilemma. Well done.”</p><p>“Thanks!” He raises his hand like a school child waiting to answer a question. </p><p>“Um... Uh, yes, Mr. Peanutbutter?” </p><p>“Can I be excused?” he asks, giving his best puppy-dog eyes. “Sarah Lynn’s doing a brunch party and I want to get there before all the mini-waffles run out.” </p><p>“...Go ahead, I guess.” </p><p>“Yes!” He eagerly exits the room. </p><p>BoJack stands up. “So, you want to roll right into another lesson? I am revved up to learn, girl. My brain is horny!” </p><p>Diane cringes. “Um, can we take a little break? I've been standing at this chalkboard all day.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, I get it. Oh, you could, um, grade my paper I wrote on the concept of Dharma.” He hands her a stack of pages. “Six pages, and I didn't even do that thing where I try to make it longer by starting every sentence with ‘Interestingly’...” </p><p>Her face falls. “Sure, I'll do that and, uh... we can start another lesson.”</p>
<hr/><p>She walks up to Sarah Lynn and shoots her a grin. “I’ve been practicing my human brunch banter, tell me what you think.” She leans in closer. “That <em> New Yorker </em> article was <em> crazy. </em> You haven’t seen <em> Horsin’ Around? </em>Did you hear about Stephanie?”</p><p>“Great job, PC,” says Sarah Lynn, still not looking up from her phone.</p><p>Todd materialises in front of Princess Carolyn. “Hooray!” He’s holding an ominous-looking black pyramid. “We have a <em> Category 55 Emergency Doomsday Crisis.” </em></p><p>Princess Carolyn’s jaw drops. “A <em> Category 55 Emergency Doomsday Crisis?” </em></p><p>“Mm-hmm.”</p><p>Sarah Lynn frowns. “Uh, what’s a category fifty-five emergency doomsday crisis?”</p><p>“...It’s nothing,” says Princess Carolyn after a long, eerie pause. “It’s just a tiny little inconvenience. Hey, this is a pretty big house you’ve got here -- could you show us to a private room where no one can see or hear us, even if I yell very loudly out of fear?”</p><p>Sarah Lynn leads them into a soundproofed room and takes a seat on the couch while Princess Carolyn, with a quick wave of her hand, summons a screen from the ominous black pyramid that displays incomprehensible data. She gasps. “It appears that the sinkhole is not repairing itself.” She turns to Todd. “This is <em> really </em>bad, Todd. We have to go into the sinkhole and fix it by hand. Get the tools.”</p><p>“Oof,” says Sarah Lynn, not looking up from her phone. “Oh yeah, that reminds me -- last night I walked past the hole and I saw it kinda get bigger.”</p><p>Princess Carolyn jumps and yelps aloud. “It got bigger?!” She quickly regains her composure. “Ah, well, that’s … that’s so normal.” She forces a strained smile. “Um, this is the reaction I have when things are completely mundane and expected. I’m gonna leave now … at my regular pace, as I do in most scenarios.” </p><p>She starts to walk off, then breaks into a run. Todd vanishes with a satisfying <em> bing </em>noise, leaving the ominous black pyramid floating where he’d been holding it previously. Sarah Lynn frowns.</p>
<hr/><p>For the first time in his forty-three years of life and several weeks of not-life, he’s glad when someone is ready to show how much they know more than him. “Finally! Let's get back to it. Whip out that chalkboard, big girl, show me what you're working with.” </p><p>Diane cringes. “Actually, I was going to head into town and pick up some... blankets.” </p><p>“Great, I'll grab my sweater.” He takes his sweater from where it was lazily dumped on the ground. “I can practice letting people cut in front of me.” </p><p>“You know, uh, I just realized that I have blankets, so I'm going to take a nap using the several blankets that I already have. Good night.” She begins to walk off, but BoJack blocks her way.</p><p>“Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah. What's wrong? Out with it.” </p><p>She grimaces. “I'm just tired, need a break. No big deal.” </p><p>“The way you're talking to me right now? ‘Everything's cool, no big deal’... I know that move. When I told a girlfriend something was ‘no big deal,’ it meant anything from ‘I just bought weed from your nephew,’ to ‘I secretly had sex with your best friend last year, things got out of hand, and now you’re her bridesmaid.’” </p><p>Her eyes widen. “Wow. Okay, well, in this case, it really is no big deal.” </p><p>“Dude, you're hiding something! What's wrong?” </p><p>“Nothing!” She throws up her hands in frustration and BoJack narrows his eyes. </p><p>“What... is... wrong?”</p>
<hr/><p>The screen tells her that it’s classified information. So, naturally, she wants to get it.</p><p>With just a swipe of her hand, she unlocks it, and sees the words <em> Neighbourhood Rankings </em>show up on the screen among other options. She selects it, and is treated to a list of names, each with a number beside it.</p><p>“Mr. Peanutbutter’s second… Eh, that makes sense, I guess. BoJack … <em> sixth? Come </em>on.” She frowns. “So … where am I?”</p><p>She scrolls through the list, eagerly looking for her name. She doesn’t find it until she’s near the bottom, with nobody except Charley Witherspoon below her, and a big disappointing <em> 321 </em>next to her name.</p><p>“Oh no…” Her face falls. “I’m second last.”</p>
<hr/><p>She eagerly tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “Mommy, I made you this.” She holds up a sheet of paper with a crude, childlike drawing on it. “It’s the pretty house we’re gonna live in when we’re rich from my acting!” </p><p>Her mother glanced up from her newspaper. “It’s okay, I guess.”</p><p>Dejected, Sarah retreated to her room, and didn’t emerge for several hours. Her mother assumed it was a tantrum, but after a while, she came out, proudly holding a mishmash of poorly-glued-together cardboard, covered in pink paint. “I made the house!”</p><p>Her mother glared. “What the hell is that?”</p><p>“It’s … it’s a house.” Her lip quivered. “I made a house.”</p><p>“...That’s nice, dear.”</p><p>There was a long, painful silence.</p><p>“I was inspired by a famous architect called Frank Lloyd Wright,” she explained meekly. “And I mean, I know it doesn’t look like it, but -- does it have to be objective? I trust my audience.”</p><p>Her mother remained silent. By this point Sarah was staring dejectedly at the ground, biting her lip and willing herself not to cry. As a last resort to gain her mother’s praise and approval, she stammered out, “It’s … it’s pretty and pink.”</p><p>“Yes, well done, Sarah.” She didn’t look up.</p>
<hr/><p>“What's wrong?” </p><p>“Nothing's wrong.” </p><p>“What's wrong?” </p><p>“Nothing's wrong.” </p><p>“What's wrong?” </p><p>“Nothing's wrong.” She throws up her hands in frustration. “Would you stop doing that?” </p><p>“What's wrong?” he asks again.</p><p>Diane groans. “Okay, fine! What's <em> wrong? </em> You want to know what's <em> wrong?” </em> She points a finger accusingly at him. <em> “You </em> are a full-time job. I wake up, there's BoJack. I spend all day teaching BoJack. And then it's, ‘Good night, BoJack.’ Oh, this is a nice dream, my grandpa's here. Wait, he's got BoJack’s face!” And tentacles for some reason.”</p><p>BoJack’s face falls. “I thought you liked teaching me. So now I'm just some huge burden for you?”</p><p><em> “Yes! </em> Of course you are! I am in <em> paradise! </em> I should be doing <em> paradise </em> things, like having my own private room modeled after Belle’s library from <em> Beauty and the Beast." </em></p><p><em> “That's </em> your idea of paradise?” </p><p>"You know,” she continues. “and I can't stop helping you, because then it’s on me if you get found out or if anyone gets hurt because you’re an <em>asshole! </em>It's an impossible position!” </p><p>He glares. “You know what, if you're so stressed from writing on a chalkboard, why don't you just<em> leave? </em> We can pretend to be friends in public, but other than that, we don't have to see each other!” </p><p>“Fine with me!” she snaps. “I'll move out right now.” </p><p>“Fine!”</p><p>Their argument is interrupted by an alarm blaring, and a screen appears in front of them with Princess Carolyn’s face on it. “Good afternoon. As you all may remember, a sinkhole recently opened up in the town center. The situation, sadly, has worsened. Starting right now, no one may go outside under any circumstances. Leaving your homes could result in catastrophic damage, to you and to the very fabric of the universe. So why don’t we make like it's 2020 and stay inside?”</p><p>There’s a long, painful silence.</p><p>“Sorry,” she corrects herself. “You guys died before 2020. Honestly, maybe that’s for the best, you don’t want to know what happens then. Okay, bye.” </p><p>Diane grimaces. “...Or we could both just stay here.”</p>
<hr/><p><em> “We hope you enjoy your eternal stay in the Good Place. Take advantage of our day spa, or Todd... a magical assistant who can get you whatever you want.” </em> </p><p>Diane groans. “You mind turning that off? It's been playing on a loop for two days.” </p><p>"The whole Neighborhood is offline. We only get the welcome channel. I would love to <em>not </em>watch TV, but <em>you </em>canceled school.” He gasps. “What have you done to me, you monster?” However reluctantly, he rises from the couch and marches in to the kitchen. “Look at all these dishes piling up. I used to just throw them in the sink, and they'd be magically cleaned by morning.” </p><p>“I did that,” says Diane. “I cleaned the dishes.” </p><p>“Oh.” He glares. “Then what's up with these bad boys?” </p><p>“...You are <em> unbelievable</em>.” </p><p>“Are you still upset? You're not over it yet?” </p><p>“How can I be <em> over </em>it? We haven't discussed it or even spoken for days.” </p><p>“Well, it sounds like you've had a really nice <em> vacation </em>from your ‘full-time job.’ Get your story straight, bitch!”</p><p>Their argument is interrupted by a knocking on the door. “Hey, guys,” calls a familiar voice that’s slightly muffled by the wooden door. “it's Princess Carolyn.”</p><p>Diane forces a smile and rushes to get the door. “Hi, Princess Carolyn, what a lovely surprise.”</p><p>“Oh, I'd love to make small talk... I've been practicing, too. I'm amazing at it... but I'm in a bit of a rush here.” She gestures to the two African women behind her, one with pink lipstick and reddish-brown hair braided into a bun, the other purple lipstick and an afro. “This is Mary-Beth and Dr. Indira. They live right next door to the, uh, sinkhole, so they obviously need a place to stay. I was wondering, as my assistant, maybe you could put them up for a while?”</p><p>BoJack grimaces. “Oh, of course. Don't... don't think twice.” </p><p>The two women walk inside and Princess Carolyn grins. “Okay, shouldn't take long. Between an hour and, um... eleven months. Somewhere in there. Okay, bye.” She turns to leave, then sticks her head back in. “Don't go outside.” The door clicks shut behind her.</p>
<hr/><p>Spilling the triple-shot coffee Todd summoned for her down her chin and neck in an effort to drink it quickly, she runs to the front of the room. “Hello, everyone, and welcome to day three of our brunch siege. I stayed up all night to plan a full day of fun activities. Just check the schedule I made.” She gestures to a schedule drawn up in messy, crowded handwriting, with colour-coded timeslots.</p><p>“Sarah Lynn,” says one resident. “you are truly the best.” </p><p>Her lip twitches. “Yeah, you would think so, wouldn't you?”</p><p>She runs off to the soundproofed room upstairs, and with a flick of her hand makes the screen appear. She scrolls down to the bottom of the list. “...Still second-last.” She sighs. </p>
<hr/><p>“Herb!” she hissed, tugging on his sleeve as he walked past. “We gotta do something. This auction is an embarrassing failure!”</p><p>Herb frowned. “We’ve raised five-point-two million dollars for charity, how is that a failure?”</p><p>“My parents are gonna be <em> so </em>disappointed if we don’t turn this around, fast.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You know what we gotta do.”</p><p>Herb cringed. “I don’t know…”</p><p>“We <em> have </em>to.”</p><p>With a sigh, he walked onto the stage and whispered something in Joelle’s ear. The corner of her mouth twitched and she gave a strained smile. “I'm very pleased to announce that there has been an addition to today's docket. I'm sure you all know my <em> friend</em>, Sarah Lynn.”</p><p>She was greeted with cheers and applause.</p><p>“Yes. Sarah Lynn. Sarah Lynn, of course, was the star of the sitcom <em> Horsin’ Around </em> , she's a world-class singer, social activist, iconoclast, Olympic gold medalist for archery, a BAFTA Award-winner for her documentary on <em> her </em>Grammy Award-winning album, and the person voted ‘Most Likely to be Banksy.’ So without further ado, take it away from me!” She cleared her throat. “Sorry, I mean -- take it away, Sarah Lynn.”</p><p>Sarah Lynn stepped up to the stage, looking a mix of nervous and uncomfortable. “I’m auctioning off a late-night date with me. The bidding will start at three million dollars.”</p><p>Someone in the front row raised his hand to offer five million, and she gulped.</p>
<hr/><p>“Sorry for the imposition,” says Mary-Beth.</p><p>“Oh, whatever,” insists BoJack, waving a hand dismissively.</p><p>“It’s so crazy how all of these things are happening in the neighbourhood,” she says, frowning. “I can’t help but worry that someone is causing it all.”</p><p>“...No way,” says BoJack.</p><p>Dr. Indira clears her throat. “Even if someone is deliberately causing all these problems, we can’t take responsibility for that.” She chuckles. “I guess you could say I wrote the book on not being responsible for the dysfunction of others.” She holds up a book. “And I did! It’s called <em> Are You Responsible For The Dysfunction Of Others?” </em></p><p>“Spoiler alert,” says Mary-Beth. “You’re not.”</p><p>“...That’s cool,” says BoJack. “Really cool. Really cool.”</p><p>“Cool,” adds Diane in an unnatural voice. “Cool.” She pauses. “Cool.”</p><p>“And what about you, Mary-Beth?”</p><p>Mary-Beth blushes. “Oh, well, my job wasn't nearly as interesting. I was a workplace conflict mediator. My job is to supervise the workers intermittently, and check if there’s <em> any </em>signs of conflict that I can help them work through.”</p><p>“...Wow, that’s nice.” He forces a chuckle, and then drags Diane into the bedroom.</p><p>“They're gonna catch us!” she yelps. “This is an extremely precarious situation! I am <em>vexed</em>, BoJack!” </p><p>“Yeah, well, a conflict mediator and a super genius isn't my first choice for company, either. But they have no reason to suspect us! Plus, I think they may have actually just come here to, you know, <em> swing </em>.” Diane gives him an incredulous look. “I say we do it. It'll get 'em to stop asking questions.” </p><p>“No, I am not going to have sex with someone to get them to stop talking to me!” </p><p>“Really?” He raises an eyebrow. “You and I are very different.” </p><p>“Yeah, I noticed!” </p><p>“You know what, Diane?” He points a finger at her accusingly. “I have spent every second in this place worried I was gonna get caught, but if we go down right now, that's on you, okay? Oh, you spend all your time teaching a charming, awesome dude? How sad for you. Face it, bitch. I'm the best thing that ever happened to you. Because guess what, Diane? You’re just a <em> boring </em> person who never does <em> anything </em> because <em> nothing </em>is good enough for you!”</p><p>Diane looks hurt. “BoJack…” </p><p>“Yeah, I know, you want to do that thing where we're arguing and fighting, but then suddenly it's like, ‘Whoa, this is hot,’ and we start making out. Dream on! Or, whatever, fine, let's just do it.”</p><p>He pulls her toward him and she pushes him away. “No, BoJack, <em> look.” </em> </p><p>She points to an inconveniently-placed circular window that allows the bedroom to see the living room, through which Mary-Beth and Dr. Indira are staring at them. His heart skips a beat, and the two shamefully walk out, taking a seat across from their visitors. “So…” BoJack gulps. “How much of that did you hear?” </p><p>“We couldn't hear you,” says Mary-Beth. but I'm an expert in non-verbal communication, and it is clear... you are in conflict.” </p><p>“We're not judging you,” adds Dr. Indira. “This has been a tough couple of weeks. I'm sure the stress of the sinkhole has caused lots of squabbles.” </p><p>“Yes,” says BoJack through gritted teeth. “that's what it is. A squabble. We're squabbling.”</p><p>“Squabble, squabble!” adds Diane half-jokingly.</p><p>“I can help,” says Mary-Beth. “I'm gonna take your friendship and put it under a microscope and dig and <em> poke </em> and <em> prod </em>until you are back to harmony. BoJack, why don't you --” </p><p>“He <em> never </em> does the dishes,” interrupts Diane. “I have to do them <em> all the time.” </em> </p><p>BoJack glares. “We just have different interests. I like relaxing, she likes getting on my case about the dishes.” </p><p>Dr. Indira frowns. “I'm getting a lot of repressed anger. I suspected this when I arrived, but now I'm sure. You are hiding something.”</p><p>BoJack’s heart skips a beat. “What on earth would I be --” </p><p>“No, no, no, not you.” She turns to Diane. “Her.”</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> “Please go back inside. It isn't safe to be out of your home. Please go back inside.”  </em>
</p><p>The recording repeats infinitely. She keeps going anyway, clutching her tray. She finally comes close to where <em> The Good Plates </em>was, and sees Princess Carolyn and Todd.</p><p>“Todd, could you see what's wrong?” </p><p>Todd smiles eerily. “Everything.” </p><p>“Ugh. My goodness! It's even worse than I thought.” She turns and sees her. “Sarah Lynn, what're you doing here?”</p><p>She blushes. “Well, everyone else might be okay staying inside, but I wanted to help. So I've brought some cheer and sustenance to raise your spirits. Look, I made donut holes.” She presents the tray to them. “Do you get it? ‘Donut holes’, sinkhole. Is it funny?” </p><p>“No, too soon,” says Todd. “By exactly nine days.” </p><p>Princess Carolyn pinches the bridge of her nose. “Sarah Lynn, this sinkhole is incredibly dangerous. If a person gets too close to it, there could be disastrous side effects.”</p><p>As if on cue, there’s a chiming noise, and part of her face starts to turn a pink hue. “What's... what's happening to me?” </p><p>“Oh, that's one of the side effects. Todd, knock her out while we still have time.” </p><p>“Knock me out?” She frowns. “What does that…”</p><p>Her vision goes dark before she can finish the sentence.</p>
<hr/><p>Diane bites her lip. “Guys, really, it's no big deal.”</p><p>Mary-Beth frowns. "’It's not a big deal; is nearly always code for ‘something is wrong.’" </p><p>“See?!” protests BoJack. “That's what<em> I </em> said! I should've been a conflict mediator.” </p><p>“Okay, Diane,” says Dr. Indira. “out with it. What is so distressing about BoJack?” </p><p>“Be honest, Diane,” says BoJack. “Be, like, the <em> exact </em> right amount of honest so that we can <em> both </em>be happy.”</p><p>Diane cringes and grimaces. She finally lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. “...I feel like BoJack likes me. Like, <em> like- </em> likes me.” She looks down at the floor, blushing furiously. “And I feel like the only reason he’s friends with me right now is because he hopes that we’ll be a couple, and he’ll give up on … on <em> everything </em> if he knows I’m not interested. But I’m <em> not </em> interested. I -- I <em> like </em> you, BoJack, but -- but not like <em> that. </em>I can’t see us ever being more than friends.”</p><p>BoJack stares at her in stunned silence.</p><p>“You’re not responsible for the dysfunction of others,” says Dr. Indira. “If BoJack is only friends with you because he wants something more, then you don’t have to be friends with him.”</p><p>“Besides,” says Mary-Beth. “This is the Good Place. Everyone here is an <em> incredibly </em>good person -- you think someone who throws a tantrum because he got ‘friend-zoned’ could make it here?”</p><p>BoJack clears his throat loudly. “Okay, well, you know what? You guys have given us <em> so </em> much to think about. And I think we should go to bed. Just the two of us, alone. Just us.” He pulls Diane into the bedroom, where he glares at her. “Geez, I’m <em> sorry </em>that I’m not good enough for you.”</p><p>Diane doesn’t argue.</p>
<hr/><p>She blinks.</p><p>“Oh good, you’re awake.”</p><p>She manages to sit up and see Princess Carolyn standing over her. “PC. Did it work? Did I fix the sinkhole? Am I a heroine?” </p><p>“No,” she answers irritably. “you did something catastrophically stupid and we had to knock you unconscious. <em> Why </em> in the <em> world </em>did you go outside?” </p><p>Her face falls. “Because I saw the rankings in the manual.” </p><p>Princess Carolyn frowns. “That manual is only meant to be seen by Architects and Todds! It's got some very sensitive material. Plus some song lyrics my boss has been working on, and he’d rather not let people see those until they're finished. Anyway, why did seeing the rankings unravel you so?”</p><p>Sarah Lynn remains silent.</p>
<hr/><p>She sighed. “I, uh. I’m sorry about your parents, I guess.”</p><p><em> “Loving </em>the sympathy,” snarled Joelle.</p><p>“Hey, at least you’ve got some family.” She smirked. “You know, the kids.”</p><p>Joelle glared. “I don’t have any kids.”</p><p>“Oh, I just assumed you had a bunch of kids,” said Sarah Lynn. “‘Cause, you know … your body?”</p><p>Joelle shot her an absolutely <em> disgusted </em> look. “I assumed you weren’t still a massive <em> cunt.” </em></p><p>“Hey, I just call it like it is.”</p><p>“Well, maybe when I’m <em> grieving </em> isn’t the best time to <em> call it like it is. </em> For the love of God, I used to have and eating disorder and you <em> know </em> that, and you <em> still </em>make fun of my body?! And right after my parents died?!”</p><p>“Eh, maybe it’s for the best, y’know?” She failed to look Joelle in the eye. “Wish my folks would kick the bucket already. You know how parents are, don’t you? Step-parents are creepy as heck and your <em> actual </em>parents will never love you because nothing you do is ever good enough for them.”</p><p>Joelle frowned. “Wait, what?”</p><p>“Trust me, I know how parents are.”</p><p>“That’s … <em> not </em> how parents are.” Her frown deepened. “Does your mom think nothing you do is good enough for her? And … what do you mean about your step-dad being <em> creepy?” </em></p><p>“It’s none of your <em> business,” </em> snapped Sarah Lynn. “Just go binge eat some ice cream to cope with your stupid-ass parents, okay? Since that’s apparently all you’ve done in the last eleven years since the show got cancelled, while <em> I </em>was busy building my career.”</p><p>Joelle looked hurt. “Wow, you <em> are </em>a cunt.”</p>
<hr/><p>She sighs. “Sorry that I looked at the rankings, PC. But I just don't <em> get </em> how I'm so low. My entire life, I’ve tried to be <em> special </em>, but it just never seemed to be enough.” </p><p>“Ah,” says Princess Carolyn. “And you thought you could increase your ranking by helping us fix the sinkhole.” Sarah Lynn nods and she continues. “Sarah Lynn, the point evaluations stop the moment you die. But also, out of literally billions, you were one of the most remarkable people on Earth. You have nothing left to prove, to anyone.”</p><p>There’s a satisfying chime noise and Todd materialises. “Hooray! The sinkhole has begun to repair itself.”</p><p>Princess Carolyn gasps. “ It has?”</p><p>Sarah Lynn poses dramatically. “Could it be... But how... Did I...?” She gestures, imagining the headlines. <em> “Sarah Lynn saves the--"  </em></p><p>“No, no, no. Still not you. You have nothing to do with it.”</p>
<hr/><p>They spend another day in silence, adamantly refusing to talk to or even acknowledge each other, waiting for the sinkhole to repair itself. On the first day when they’re allowed to go outside, BoJack vanishes with a vague excuse. Diane is in the middle of a fun, relaxing BoJack-less day when Todd appears with a satisfying <em> bing. </em></p><p>“Hooray!” he says, announcing his presence. “BoJack told me to tell you that he has a surprise for you near the lake.”</p><p>Rolling her eyes, she grabs her jacket and puts her book away, and begins the walk to the lake. There’s an unfamiliar building just by the lakeside, a large square one with grey-painted outer walls and a magnificent wooden door. BoJack leans against the outer wall with a grin. “Morning, teach!”</p><p>A smile crawls onto Diane’s face despite herself. “Morning. What's this about?” </p><p>“Well, here's what I realized.” He sighs. “It's not just that helping me is a full-time job that you feel you have to do. The real problem is, that you can <em> tell </em>I like you, and that’s the only reason I’m so into learning now. And you’re worried that you might be pushed into some situation, where if you don’t suck it up and date me then it’s on you if I do shitty stuff. I'm basically a Utilitarian nightmare.” He laughs. “Every ounce of my happiness could lead to a ton of pain for you. So every time you feel like I’m getting too close for comfort, I want you to hold this up.”</p><p>He presents a large card with the words <em> Get Lost, BoJack </em>written on it in large golden letters. Diane laughs.</p><p>“At which point,” he continues. “I will leave you alone for as long as you need.” He forces a smile. “I know we'll never be soul mates, but we're friends. And I’ll try and get over my feelings for you, so you can go after Mr. Peanutbutter.”</p><p>She chuckles, her cheeks red from the mention of her crush. “Thanks, BoJack. That means a lot.”</p><p>“That’s not all! I made an, uh -- an apology gift.” He grins, pointing to the building. “Close your eyes and I’ll lead you inside.”</p><p>She hesitates, but decides to close her eyes and grab his hand. He pushes the door open and leads her inside. When she opens her eyes, she gasps in shock at the interior. It’s a <em> perfect </em> recreation of Belle’s library from <em> Beauty and the Beast, </em>right down to the talking furniture and the candle that inexplicably has a French accent despite the entire movie supposedly taking place in France. “It’s … It’s a Belle room.”</p><p>“Yeah,” says BoJack, grinning widely. “What do you think?”</p><p>“...” She folds her arms over her body. “...I don’t like it.”</p><p>His face falls. “What’s -- What’s wrong? Is the candle too obnoxiously French? I’ve never actually seen the movie, but I got Todd to recreate it exactly and he knows everything, so --”</p><p>“No, that’s not it. The, the room is <em> fine, </em> it’s just…” She sighs. “This was <em> my </em> fantasy. And it was a theoretical fantasy! It was … it was more of an escape I used to cope with bad stuff in life than something I actually <em> wanted, </em>you know?”</p><p>“Oh,” says BoJack frowning. “Uh, I’m sorry. Do you want me to get rid of it?”</p><p>“Yeah, that’d be nice.” She steps outside and he follows. “Hey, Todd?”</p><p>Todd appears with a satisfying <em> bing. </em> “Hooray!”</p><p>“I’ve had a change of heart,” explains BoJack. “Can you get rid of the Belle room?”</p><p>“Sure!” The building vanishes with a satisfying <em> bing </em>and Todd soon follows. </p><p>Diane sighs. “Sorry for, uh, for being ungrateful.”</p><p>“No, it’s fine!” he insists. “I mean, that was a <em> huge </em>thing that I did without even checking if it was what you really wanted. And it’s not like it took a lot of effort.”</p><p>“That’s good.” She rubs the back of her neck nervously. “I just, uh, generally don’t like big gestures. They kinda make me feel put on the spot.”</p><p>“You don’t like big gestures?” He raises an eyebrow. “Gee, that’s … <em> kind </em>of a big part of how I show people that I care. Maybe it’s for the best that you don’t like me back.”</p><p>“Yeah, maybe it is.”</p><p>He smirks. “Besides, I bet Mr. Peanutbutter would <em> never </em>try and win you over with a grand gesture like this.”</p>
<hr/><p>As several residents jump on the place where a sinkhole had been just days ago, proving the solidity of the ground, BoJack shoots Princess Carolyn a grin. “Hey, boss. So you fixed the sinkhole.” </p><p>“Yup, good as new. Crisis averted. Everybody have a wonderful day, because I fixed the sinkhole.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I didn't fix the sinkhole.”</p><p>BoJack frowns. “Huh?”</p><p>“I tried and I tried, but nothing worked. And then all of a sudden... this morning, out of the blue, it just... whoop! It just closed over. Huh. How 'bout that?” </p><p>BoJack forces a grin. “Well, as your assistant, I officially declare this good news.” </p><p>“No, this is <em> terrible </em> news! I have <em> no </em> idea what caused it, BoJack. And no idea what <em> fixed </em>it.” She narrows her eyes. “I want you to come to my office first thing in the morning. You and I are gonna find this problem.”</p><p>BoJack gulps.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. What We Owe To Each Other</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>BoJack struggles to help Princess Carolyn find the problem in the neighbourhood without being caught; Diane and Mr. Peanutbutter have a date, with Sarah Lynn as a third wheel.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw for homophobia and implications of suicidal thoughts</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He continues to pace around the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>freaked </span>
  </em>
  <span>out about my meeting with Princess Carolyn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m pretty anxious too,” says Diane, not as reassuringly as she hoped. “I’ve got a date with Mr. Peanutbutter and I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>idea what we’ll talk about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes. “I’ve got to help an immortal goddess without condemning myself to eternal damnation, you’ve got a date. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not </span>
  </em>
  <span>comparable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious!” she says indignantly. “I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m going to keep the conversation up for a whole day -- I need a buffer or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, just get a wingman or something. There are bigger problems.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know anyone here except you, him, and Sarah Lynn!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, Sarah’ll probably do it.” He checks the time and groans. “In five minutes, Princess Carolyn wants my help investigating what's making the neighborhood go nuts, which is obviously me. I mean, I did promise I would help. What do I do here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane’s eyes light up and her date anxiety is forgotten. “Actually, the answer is…” She begins searching in her bookshelf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Right here in this easily understandable comic strip?” suggests BoJack hopefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, in this book about the theory of contractualism.</span>
  <em>
    <span> What We Owe to Each Other." </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasps. “I saw this movie. Laura Linney cries in a lake house because Jude Law left her for his ex-wife's ghost.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...No.” She sighs. “Quick summary of contractualism. Uh, imagine a group of reasonable people are coming up with the rules for a new society.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like if your taxi driver talks to you, the ride should be free?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, but anyone can veto any rule that they think is unfair. So if you said, ‘We should be able to break our promises without any repercussions,’ someone would veto that rule.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirks. “Well, my first rule would be that no one can veto my rules.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that's called tyranny, and it's generally frowned upon. If you make a promise to someone, you should do it. Just like I promised to help you and still am, despite your constant mockery.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Despite your constant mockery," </span>
  </em>
  <span>mocks BoJack. “Whatever, you love it. So either I help her find the problem, which is me, and I'm doomed, or I don't help her, and then I'm behaving unethically and the whole world goes crazy and I'm caught anyway. I need to figure out a way both help her and not help her at the same time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises an eyebrow. “That's literally not possible.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, really?” he challenges. “I once forced my hair and makeup lady to get drunk at work, both helping her and later, according to her therapist, not helping her.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He knocks on the door, and Princess Carolyn hurriedly opens it. “Oh, hey, BoJack, thanks for coming in. Sorry about the mess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack looks around at the empty, non-messy office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She clears her throat. “Oh, I forgot, you don't see in nine dimensions. There's just a lot of... there's a lot of tension in the air right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns. “Are you okay, buddy? You seem kind of stressed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no, I'm fine. Top of my game, actually. Uh, here, let me just, uh…” She clears some nonexistent mess from the chair. “Have a seat. There you go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits down, and she continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So to prepare to meet you, I studied the Earth concept of sitcoms. I even watched all nine seasons of your show </span>
  <em>
    <span>Horsin’ Around.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Boy, those kids really were </span>
  <em>
    <span>horsin’ around,</span>
  </em>
  <span> weren't they? Although... and I realize this is the kind of observation that would only occur to the mind of an eternal being... Why did their house have two sets of stairs? Houses </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>look like that in real life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack rolls his eyes. “Everyone’s a critic.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, it's been a tough couple of days. Right now, I could really use a friend by my side.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack grimaces. “Well, you know me. The person who has... audibly promised to help you.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The atmosphere remained thick with tension. The two took turns opening their mouths, then closing them before saying anything, then gesturing vaguely while having some strange idea that the other could tell what they’re trying to say when even they themselves weren’t sure. You could have cut the tension in there with a knife, and BoJack very nearly did so that morning, if one takes ‘cutting the tension in here with a knife’ to mean ‘accidentally stabbing yourself in an attempt at making a sandwich because you just found out your coworker (and friend?) is in trouble for public indecency and you were distracted’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“BoJack, I gotta tell you.” The horse looked up, preparing himself to act surprised, for the sake of politeness. “I’m gay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No doy.” Perhaps not his best effort at acting surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Herb, luckily, elected to ignore this comment. “I know we haven’t been close for the past couple years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “Okay, I’m gonna hold back my ‘No doy’s because there might be a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you know me, right?” continued Herb. There was  a pleading edge to his voice, but not in a pitiful way, just appealing to whatever good still hadn’t leaked out of his friend. “You know that I’m a good guy. They’re gunning for me at the network, and if I get kicked off this, I won’t recover. I need to know that you’ve got my back. If you threaten to walk, they’ll listen to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack thought it over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yeah, sure,” he said finally. “I mean, I wouldn’t even be here without you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Herb narrowed his eyes. “BJ, you don’t really know how it feels to be outed, but -- trust me, this is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>stressful time for me. I need to know that I can count on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I won’t let you down,” he lied. “I promise.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Sarah,” she hisses. “You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>got </span>
  </em>
  <span>to come with us to the spa.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way.” She cringes. “No, that's really weird. You can't make small talk with her for one day without making a fool of yourself?”<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“No, I can't, and he freaks me out. He's so pretty, like…” She struggles to find a word to describe him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nala from </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Lion King?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>suggests Sarah unhelpfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yeah, sure, and he’s so tall, like, um…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nala from </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Lion King."</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not exactly, but sure.” She groans. “You got to help me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Sarah Lynn can agree or disagree, the door bursts open. “You ready, Diane?” asks Mr. Peanutbutter. “Oh, I cannot wait to just relax and talk and chat and just, you know... get to know each other.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” suggests Sarah Lynn, speaking with all the volume control of a brick being thrown through one’s window and around the same amount of tact. “Maybe I'll come too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” His face falls. “Well, Sarah Lynn... it's just that this is, um... this is really more of a couples thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. But BoJack’s off with Princess Carolyn, and I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>bored. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And Diane’s okay with me coming, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane freezes, her eyes darting around the room for something to say. “...Made in Taiwan.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you’re right,” says Sarah Lynn through gritted teeth, following her gaze to a Magic 8 Ball. “It was made in Taiwan. So... couples date! Let's go!”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He glances around the room. “I never really looked around your office the first day.” His eyes linger on a glass display full of empty cans. “What is all this junk?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn blushes slightly. “Well, technically, architects aren't allowed to own any Earth objects, but... oh, I just love them so much. And over here, look at this. Aren't paper clips the most amazing things in the world?” She points eagerly at a bowl of paperclips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. Sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, my current theory is that some object in the neighborhood is a design flaw which is causing everything to go haywire. So we need to find that object. We're gonna start with the rocks.” She marches over to a pile of rocks. “Now, I've investigated all of the rocks in the neighborhood. These seventy-eight are the most suspicious.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack raises an eyebrow. “Maybe to an architect, they might look suspicious, but to me, they just look like rocks, so I'm not sure how I can help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do any of them look defective? Sinister? You know, like they're taunting you? Always one step ahead? You devious little monsters, you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widen. “Okay, let's take a deep breath here, buddy. You need to chill a little. 'Cause you have a very psycho, ‘burnout agent muttering to herself at a library computer’ type vibe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's my </span>
  <em>
    <span>responsibility </span>
  </em>
  <span>to solve the problem,” she insists. “What else can I do except keep working?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An idea dawns on him. “You could </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop </span>
  </em>
  <span>working.” He grins. “Look, I promised to help you, and honestly, the way I can help you is to force you to take a break.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises an eyebrow. “And not working will help me work?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Recharge the old batteries. I promise this is gonna help </span>
  <em>
    <span>both </span>
  </em>
  <span>of us. Let's go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. “Okay.” She pushes the door open. “Let's keep our eyes peeled for twigs that may have a nefarious agenda.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, crazy, come on.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter proudly strides up to the front desk. “Hello, Todd. Diane and I are here for the couples package, please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn doesn’t look up from her phone. “And also I will be joining them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd smiles at her. “Great, and who is the other half of your couple?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no, no, it's just me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns. “Couples are pairs of people.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup, and, uh, there is a pair of people, Peanutbutter and Diane. And then also I am here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great, and who will be joining you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one.” She clicks her tongue irritably. “Um, it's really quite simple, Todd. They are a couple, and I am a third part of that couple. Uh, a helper part who is here for fun and excitement. It's a three-person couple.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd’s voice assumes a robotic tone. “Does not compute. Does not compute.” It quickly goes back to normal. “I'm just kidding.” He laughs. “I mean, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>compute, but I'm not gonna explode or anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter sighs. “Right. Well, I'll see you inside, Diane.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He exits the room and Diane groans, turning to Sarah Lynn. “Okay, you have to step up. Find a way to let this be </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>date without, you know, not interacting with either of us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that even </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>whines Sarah Lynn. “Do I talk or not talk? Do I be nice to Mr. Peanutbutter, or do I throw all his acting awards in the toilet?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes widen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That's</span>
  </em>
  <span> the opposite of being nice?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...So, no toilet?”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He frowns as he shoves honeydew down his throat and pretends to like it. “Why do you need a person to be your assistant? I mean, aren't there more of... whatever you are?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice assumes a low and conspiratorial tone. “Well, since we're becoming friends, like Mr. Libertoire and the horse…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weird combo to pick, but okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm gonna tell you a secret.” She glances around. “Usually, architects don't live in their neighborhoods. Usually, the people show up, we play the movie, Todd is there to answer questions, and you're on your own. But I had this theory. I thought transition would be easier if the architect were on-site for at least the first thousand  years or so.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widen. “That's why you've been so freaked out. 'Cause your ass is on the line.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My boss thought I was nuts,” she explains. “And if this neighborhood doesn't work, I am in big trouble. But more importantly, I promised all of you that you would be safe and happy. And you just don't break a promise.” She chuckles. “Unlike the horse when he promised Sabrina that Santa could bring her </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yeah, I dunno what the stupid-ass writer was thinking for that episode.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know something?” She smiles. “I feel better already. Should we get back to work?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gah, gah, gah, gah, gah,” he replies hurriedly. “The whole point is to stop thinking about work and start having fun. Now, what should we do first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some ten minutes later, they’re both screeching out lyrics. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It felt good to be out of the rain</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In the desert, you can’t remember your name</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn stops for breath. “Whoo! This is so interesting! I mean, there's no point to it. The images on the screen relate to nothing. Some time passed, and then it was over.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack grins. “That's karaoke!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, let's do it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They do more karaoke and continue through the arcade. Princess Carolyn knocks down ten pins with a single bowling ball and stares eagerly as six tickets come from the dispenser. “How many tickets do I get? Six? Is that all?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, watch this.” He pounds on the dispenser, causing a few more tickets to come out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns. “Is that allowed?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really. But it is a time-honored tradition.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say no more. I got it.” She claps in excitement. “You know something? As much as I've always wanted to be around people , I think I've missed a big part of what makes them wonderful. Sometimes all you guys think about is how you can make the most amount of money you don’t need.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly!” cheers BoJack. “That was practically my mantra.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“BoJack, can we chat for a second?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack’s blood ran cold. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Herb giving him a hopeful, pleading look as he followed Angela into the room. “I’m not gonna waste your time with small talk,” she began. “Because you work for me and your time is my time. We’re letting Herb go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spoke at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t do that.” She smirked. “I’m not asking you. It’s nothing personal. I like Herb. I think he’s a good guy, but this is business. And every day we don’t fire him, we’re flushing money away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They once again spoke simultaneously. “Well, if he goes, I go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if he goes, you go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She continued her rant, but BoJack already knew it was hopeless.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Diane forces a chuckle. “So, um, Mr. Peanutbutter, what do you think about…” She glances around the room. “...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Horsin’ Around?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs. “Eh, I feel like it’s kind of a ripoff of my sitcom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn narrows her eyes. “Dude, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Horsin’ Around </span>
  </em>
  <span>was </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>made  seven years before your show.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane sighs. “I’m gonna head to the sauna.” She exits with her head low, and Sarah Lynn turns to Mr. Peanutbutter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude,” she hisses. “She’s trying so hard and you’re giving her </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter hesitates. “Well, BoJack told me she doesn’t like big gestures, so I don’t want to …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>ignore </span>
  </em>
  <span>her!” She groans. “There’s got to be some middle ground between basically ignoring her and trying to win her over with grand gestures. You have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>show </span>
  </em>
  <span>her that you want to be with her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widen. “You know, you just gave me an idea.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>After a fun day of ‘helping’ Princess Carolyn, he expects that Diane will be home already, or out late with Mr. Peanutbutter. He’s surprised when he walks past a cafe on the way home and sees her sitting outside. “You sure this is where you want to be right now? At the<em> Tea for Two</em> couples cafe?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There's no use avoiding it, BoJack. I'm alone.” She sighs. “Mr. Peanutbutter and I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>in common. I just want a partner, someone I can share my passions with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a seat across from her. “Well, hey, you can always do that with your friends.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns. “It’s not the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” He grins. “I mean, romance isn’t everything. Some people never have a partner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but everyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants </span>
  </em>
  <span>one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd materialises in front of them. “Welcome to the cafe, you two. We have a special on couple muffins. Two for the price of zero. Everything is free.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uh,” says Diane, blushing. “we're not a couple. We're just, uh... friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack frowns. “Hey, Todd, while you’re here -- does </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>want a partner? Like, romantically?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” explains Todd cheerily. “Some people do not feel romantic attraction to anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane raises an eyebrow. “Why do you even know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a vessel that contains all knowledge in the universe.” He blinks. “Also, I’m asexual.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re a vessel that contains all knowledge in the universe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he explains. “Plenty of vessels that contain all knowledge in the universe feel sexual attraction. I just happen to be asexual as well.” He smiles. “I know everything about LGBT people. Not just the community and terminology, but every individual person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Every LGBT person?” repeats BoJack, frowning. “Okay, then -- there was a lesbian who threatened to fire me in 1993. Her name was Angela. Would she have actually gone through with it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” says Todd cheerily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack’s face falls. “...Oh.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When he comes into the office, he finds Princess Carolyn beaming. “BoJack, I have huge news. Not working actually worked.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart skips a beat. “It did what now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After our day off, with a completely clear head, I realized part of what makes people so fun is that they're unpredictable. The chaos we've been experiencing is exactly what would happen if a resident behaved unpredictably. The problem in our neighborhood... it's not a rock or an object. It's one of the people.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack’s face falls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to celebrate!!” she continues. “Paper clip shower!” She throws a bowl of paperclips over his head. He cringes and brushes them off of him, and they start going outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So do you think we're looking for a woman,” he asks as they walk through the paved streets. “or do you think we're looking for two women?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sure. We don't know anything about this person. I mean, does he or she even know that they caused all these problems?” She shakes her head. “No, that can't be. I mean, what kind of monster would wreak havoc and then say nothing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They reach the place where BoJack shoved garbage under the carpet. “So this is the main place where the garbage fell from the sky. Janet?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hooray!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need a list of everyone that was here on garbage duty during orientation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He instantly produces a sheet of paper and Princess Carolyn’s eyes widen. “Oh. BoJack, our criminal is on this very short list.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People were flying that day too,” says Todd. “I'll add everybody who flew overhead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He produces a stack of paper. Princess Carolyn glances it over. “BoJack, our criminal is on this much longer list.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Todd leads them into </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Good Plates. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“This is where the sinkhole opened up. And the guest list that night was limited. There were a total of thirty people here that night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn laughs with delight. “Only thirty, huh? How do you pump your fists again?” She begins moving her arms in erratic circles. “Is this it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But sixty-six others passed through to take a look before it opened, and everyone else in the neighborhood was in a close radius.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack grimaces. “Oh, boy, that... doesn't narrow it down at all. Feels like the end of the road. ‘End of the Road,’</span>
  <em>
    <span> Boyz II Men,</span>
  </em>
  <span> karaoke. Let's go... don't think about it too much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He begins to exit. Princess Carolyn doesn’t move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Todd. My hoodie, please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd produces a grey hoodie, which Princess Carolyn puts on, and pulls the hood tight over her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack blinks. “What's happening?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lies down on the floor. “I give up. I can't help the people I promised that I would help. I feel like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Horsin’ Around </span>
  </em>
  <span>in season eight, out of ideas and forcing Olivia and Goober together, even though it made no sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, some people like the later seasons.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ignores him. “I hope the sinkhole opens up again and swallows me whole.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The phone rung. He ignored it. His answering machine stepped in to save the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, BJ. It’s me again.” His voice was unsteady and it sounded like he’d been crying, just like the last three calls. “Sorry that I keep calling. I, uh -- I guess you must be really busy? Maybe all this drama got the shooting behind schedule and you’re staying late to make up for it. I wouldn’t know. I got fired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack cringed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, uh… I don’t really know what happened, since you said you’d stick up for me and I still got fired. Maybe you tried your best but your hands were tied, or maybe you just changed your mind last-minute. BJ, I -- even if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>just stab me in the back, I won’t be angry if you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>call me back. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long, painful silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, BJ, I -- you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>what it’s like to be outed. I’ve got </span>
  <em>
    <span>nobody </span>
  </em>
  <span>right now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everybody </span>
  </em>
  <span>left. Even my family disowned me, and I know you don’t think that’s a big deal because when I tried to vent to you about it you just shut me down by saying that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>wish </span>
  </em>
  <span>your parents would disown you already, but it’s just the </span>
  <em>
    <span>worst </span>
  </em>
  <span>having people love you unconditionally your whole life, and then shit hits the fan and you need them more than ever and suddenly they </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Please, BJ, you’re all I have left right now. I need </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack pressed his ears down guiltily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve left me too, haven’t you?” His voice started to break. “You don’t want to be my friend anymore, just like everyone else, because you think I’m some </span>
  <em>
    <span>predator </span>
  </em>
  <span>that’s going to Hell. Well, I guess I am going to Hell.” He sighed. “Not right now, though. The Knicks are having a good season. Point is, BJ, I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>nobody </span>
  </em>
  <span>on my side right now and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>said </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’d stick up for me, and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sentence dissolved into a series of staticky sobs before he could continue. “Maybe this is just more trademarked BoJack Horseman bullshit. You know, you broke your promise as soon as it wasn’t convenient for you. I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to believe that, because -- I knew all those showbiz phonies would leave me, but I didn’t think you would. I liked to think you would still be my friend when I need you, and right now what I need is a friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long, painful silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you’re just busy. I hope you’re just busy. I’m, uh -- I’m gonna go now. Call me back, if you still want to be friends. Otherwise, I’m just gonna assume you don’t care.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He sighs. “I promised to help you, and I will, however I can. If you want to look at a million rocks like a psychopath, I'll be there. If you want to just lay here and cry in your hoodie, I'm cool with that. Honestly, I don't know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can help you, 'cause I'm just a person and you're, like, this super magical agent-type girl who invented this entire universe, but I'll do my best. I'm right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn’s eyes widen. “Oh, my gosh.” She sits up. “Of course. How did I not see it?” She stares at BoJack. “Todd... I found the answer to the problem. Call a neighborhood meeting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should it be festive and casual or moribund and devastating?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moribund and devastating, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack gulps.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>She walks into her house -- BoJack’s annoyingly small house, if she’s being technical -- without even noticing that the door is already open. She rarely bothers to close it, and when she does it’s only out of habit, because who would want to steal her stuff in a paradise?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks into the living room, and Mr. Peanutbutter is inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Mr. Peanutbutter. What’s this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he explains, rubbing the back of his neck. “I realised, at the spa, that I was falling into the same patterns with you that I had for my last two wives -- I wasn’t listening to you, and I wasn’t showing you that I’m committed. So, I wanted to show you how much I care.” He drops to one knee and presents a glittering ring. “Diane, will you --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah.” She takes a step back. “This is a little fast, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, in my experience, proposal is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>great </span>
  </em>
  <span>apology gift, so --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the problem.” She frowns. “Mr. Peanutbutter, I know sometimes you feel insecure when you’re single, but we’ve got </span>
  <em>
    <span>eternity </span>
  </em>
  <span>to work things out! We don’t need to get married after the first date. We’ve got time to work this out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter’s face falls. “...Okay.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When she arrives at the town square for the meeting, she ses BoJack standing off to the side, looking anxious. She frowns. “What's going on?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I did what you said.” He can’t bring himself to look her in the eye. “I honored my agreement to help Princess Carolyn find the problem, and she found the problem.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face falls. “Oh, I'm so sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After I'm gone, take those weird clown paintings out of my house. But leave my porn magazines there. To remember me by.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn’s heels clack as she makes her way to the stage and she clears her throat. “Thank you all for your patience with the problems in our neighborhood. I have finally discovered the cause. There was one common link among every incident. And when I figured it out, it was a shock. But there's no escaping it. The problem…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns to glare at BoJack. He wilts under her gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... is me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The neighbourhood’s residents gasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now,” she continues. “I have to leave you... forever.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Eternal Shriek</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>BoJack tries to postpone Princess Carolyn's torturous retirement; Diane struggles with the belief that, by being friends with them despite their bad actions, she's indirectly encouraging BoJack and Mr. Peanutbutter.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw for the r-word, and a couple mentions of abuse</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Diane gulps. “Princess Carolyn, you <em> can't </em>be the problem.” </p><p>“Oh, but I <em>am,”</em> she insists. “You see, architects aren't supposed to live in the neighborhoods they design, but I love humans, so I-I wanted to try. I see now that was a mistake. My meddling is the one true constant in all of our disasters. I tried to force all the guests into opening up, which caused a sinkhole to open up. I didn’t help with the garbage pick-up, and garbage rained down. I grossly underestimated the amount of cotton needed for the opening-night party, and what was vomited onto the streets the next day, taunting me for my failures?” She sighs. “I'm sorry, everyone. I'm truly sorry. Todd?”</p><p>Todd appears with a satisfying <em> bing. </em>“Please call a train to escort me into retirement.” She turns to the neighbourhood. “You see, the only way in and out of a neighborhood is by train, and Todd is the only one who can operate them.” She turns back to Todd. “Oh, my dear Todd. Will you be okay after I leave?” </p><p>“Yes,” answers Todd cheerfully. “This will not affect me in any way.” </p><p>BoJack grimaces. “Jeez, show some compassion.” </p><p>“Well, I can't feel sad, but here's my best approximation of human crying. Baaah!” He launches into a series of obviously fake sobs, before immediately returning to his previous, happy self.</p><p>Princess Carolyn’s face softens. “Oh, Todd, that was beautiful.”</p>
<hr/><p>She paces around the apartment. “What did you say to her? Did you make her do this somehow?” </p><p>“Nope, this was entirely her idea. Dude, this is <em> good </em>news.” He grins. “Princess Carolyn’s gonna get a chill retirement, which, frankly, she desperately needs, and I can finally relax. It's goddamn perfect.” </p><p>“No, it's terrible.” She groans. “She’s wrong. She's not the problem.” </p><p>“Well, she did bring me here, which was the mistake that led to all the other problems. So, in that sense, she is the real problem. Ha! How do you like them ethics? I just ethics'd you in the face, Diane!”</p><p>She doesn’t laugh. “It doesn't change the fact that we weren't truthful. There's an old Chinese proverb... ‘Lies are like tigers. They are bad.’" </p><p>He raises an eyebrow. “That's it?” </p><p>“It's more poetic in Mandarin.” </p><p>“Look, Princess Carolyn is retiring. She's gonna be on an angel boat somewhere, smoking moonbeam cigars. Now, Sarah Lynn is throwing him a good-bye party. Let's go help out.” </p><p>She groans. “Sure, that will <em> more </em>than make up for the pain and misery and lying.” </p><p>“Yes, <em> now </em>you're getting it.”</p>
<hr/><p>She rushed to their table, a skim mocha in hand, and gently set it down in front of the customer. “Your coffee, miss,” she said politely, before rushing back to make some more. It was peak hour, she was getting demands left and right, and she <em> hated </em>her job.</p><p>“Don’t you think it’s <em> basic decency </em> to get us our coffee faster after we paid so much for it?” snarled one particularly annoying customer, and she wanted to flip them off and launch into a lecture about she was <em> trying </em> as hard as she could and she maybe it was <em> basic decency </em>to be a little more polite to the people who were working their asses off for minimum wage so you could continue your borderline caffeine addiction, but instead she gave her best smile.</p><p>“So sorry about the wait, sir, I’ll have your coffee shortly.”</p><p>“After he <em> paid so much for it?” </em>mocked her friend Roxy, in a voice too low for anyone to overhear. “Jeez, does he think we control the prices?”</p><p>“I know,” moaned Diane. “Customers are the <em> worst.” </em></p><p>“Tell me about it. I had like three guys yesterday tell me off because the heating was broken. Do they not get that <em> we’re </em>the ones that are freezing our asses off in here all day?”</p><p>“Exactly! It’s not our fault management won’t fix it. We don’t control the temperature!”</p><p>“Ugh.” Roxy groaned. “Customers are so retarded sometimes.”</p><p>Diane cringed, but said nothing.</p>
<hr/><p>The music booms in the background. </p><p>“...What is all this?” </p><p>Sarah Lynn’s face falls. “Oh, no, Princess Carolyn, you're not supposed to see it till it's all done. Ugh, too late now -- welcome to your retirement party.” She proudly gestures to the table. “Look, over there, I've got a bunch of themed desserts, like retire-<em> mint </em> chocolate cake or, uh, <em> flan voyage." </em> </p><p>Princess Carolyn chuckles nervously. “Oh, boy.” </p><p>“Oh, and here we have a piñata shaped like you, which is super fun. By the way, uh, what's your favorite color for the tablecloths?” </p><p>“Well, it's not perceptible by human eyes. It's called pleurigloss." </p><p>She frowns. “What's that like?” </p><p>“It's the color of…” She sighs. “When a soldier comes home from war and sees his dog for the first time.” </p><p>“Hmm. How about blue?” </p><p>“Sarah Lynn, I'm so sorry.” She grimaces. “We need to cancel this party immediately.”</p><p>Her face falls. “Why?” </p><p>“For a being like me, retirement... is not something fun.”</p><p>Diane gulps. “What is ‘retirement’ for you exactly?” </p><p>“Well, I wasn't gonna share this so as not to upset you, but it's, a... an extreme form of punishment. We call it ‘The Eternal Shriek.’ My soul will be disintegrated, and each molecule will be placed on the surface of a different burning sun. And then my... my essence will be scooped out of my body with a flaming ladle and poured over hot diamonds.”</p><p>Sarah Lynn’s eyes light up. “Ooh, diamonds!”</p><p>“Not in a good way.” She groans. “And then what's left of my body will be endlessly beaten with a titanium rod, like a…”<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes widen. “Like a piñata.” </p><p>“Yes, except you have the string around my waist, but instead it will definitely be around my genitals.” </p><p>Sarah Lynn winces. “PC, I'm so sorry. I was just trying to honor you. Please, let me re-plan this.” </p><p>She sighs. “Of course.” </p><p>“All right, everyone, we're starting over. The key word for tonight is just<em> somber." </em> </p><p>Diane groans and pulls BoJack outside. “She’s getting tortured!” </p><p>“Dang it,” groans BoJack. “I was almost handed a perfect solution to all my problems without having to work for it at all, and now it's gone.” He sighs. “Why do bad things always happen to mediocre people who regularly throw their best friends under the bus?” </p><p>“Okay, you have two options,” says Diane. “You can confess and save Princess Carolyn, or you can continue to lie and condemn her to an eternity of unimaginable pain.” </p><p>“Or option C... continue to lie about myself <em> and </em>find a way to save Princess Carolyn.” His eyes widen. “Can we somehow throw Mr. Peanutbutter under the bus? That would be a classic ‘two birds with one stone’ scenario. Plus, I'd get his house. Three birds!” </p><p>“No,” she insists. “there's no way to stop this except confessing. Any moment now, Princess Carolyn is going to get on that train, and we will never see her again, just like the first publisher I asked to reread my thirty-six-hundred-page manuscript. He said he was going out for cigarettes, but then he was just never seen again.” </p><p>“Great story. Todd?”</p><p>Todd appears with a satisfying <em> bing. </em>“Hooray!”</p><p>“Hi. So the only way out of the neighborhood is a train?” </p><p>“That's correct,” he explains. “I am the only one who can call the train, and it needs me to operate.” He mimes being a train conductor. “Choo-choo.” </p><p>BoJack ignores Diane’s glare. “One more question, and, um, this is a little weird, but can we... uh, shut you down?” </p><p>“Yes, great question. There is a kill switch in a remote sector of the neighborhood in the event that I malfunction and attempt to harm the residents. If you press it, I will be destroyed. Anything else?” </p><p>“No, that's good, thanks.” </p><p>“Okay.” He vanishes with a satisfying <em> bing. </em></p><p>“Whoa,” chokes Diane. “you want to kill Todd?” </p><p>“Princess Carolyn can't retire if she can't leave. She can't leave if there's no Todd to run the train. It's a perfect solution.”</p><p>He holds up his hand for a high-five. Diane continues to stare at him in shock.</p><p>He sighs. “Todd, high-five, please?”</p><p>Todd materialises, gives him a high-five, and immediately dematerialises. </p><p>“Thanks, babe.”</p><p>“You <em> cannot </em>kill Todd,” Diane insists. “Killing is one of the most famous moral no-nos.” </p><p>“Todd is a nonhuman object who was sent here to help us,” explains BoJack. “and the way he can help us is if we kill him. We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.” </p><p>“Do you know who said that?” </p><p>“Was it someone nice and great, like Oprah?” </p><p>“It was Machiavelli.” She sighs. “A very non-Oprah-like figure.”</p><p>BoJack waves a hand dismissively. “You don’t have to do anything, okay? If you’re so determined to not kill Todd, then you can sit back and relax while I do it.”</p><p>“That’s <em> worse!” </em> she squeaks. “If I just <em> let </em>you kill Todd, then I’m enabling you!”  </p>
<hr/><p>She groaned. <em> “Why </em>would I let her say customers are retarded?!” She sat up in bed. “It’s not just a synonym for stupid. It’s a specific word for intellectually disabled people, and it's not in common usage anymore!.”</p><p>“Yes, I know,” said Wayne flatly. “You’ve been talking about it for the last two days.”</p><p>“I’m <em> letting </em>her perpetuate ableism,” she insisted. “You agree that ableism is wrong, don’t you?”</p><p>“I agree that you need to <em> let it go.” </em></p><p>“I’m <em> enabling </em>her.”</p><p>“Sometimes, you don’t call people out because you don’t want to make a fuss.” He sighed. “If you feel that strongly about it, just tell her it was wrong. Also, I don’t care, because it’s the middle of the night.”</p><p>He rolled over in bed, and no amount of nagging from Diane could get him to continue the conversation. He sighed again. “This is why everybody hates social justice warriors.”</p><p>She frowned. “They do?”</p>
<hr/><p>“Speeches!” She clasps her hands together. “Time for speeches, guys.” She clears her throat. “Princess Carolyn, as someone who had kinda shitty parents, I just want to thank you. You were always there for us.” </p><p>“I shouldn't have been,” says Princess Carolyn sulkily. “I was the problem.” </p><p>Her face falls. “Yes, but... it was also great when you weren't there.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don't worry. Soon I won't be... forever.” </p><p>“Because of The Eternal Shriek!” reminds one resident. </p><p>“Yes, thank you, Charley.” </p><p>Sarah Lynn clears her throat. “Look, what I'm trying to say is this... PC, you always kept us warm and safe like a bright, glowing sun.” </p><p>She raises an eyebrow. “Like the one that made it rain garbage, or the one I'm going to be burned on the surface of for eternity?” </p><p>“Okay, no more speeches!” she yells. “Speeches are over. PC’s going to talk now.” </p><p>Princess Carolyn sighs. “Ugh, I'm sorry I was so grumpy. It's just I'm sad that I have to leave before doing all the human things that I wanted to do. I wanted to get my hair wet. You know, I-I wanted to pull a hamstring. To learn the difference between ‘toward’ and ‘towards.’ I wanted to do that thing where you walk down the hallway, and someone else is walking the other way, and then you both lean to one side and then the other, and then you both chuckle over your shared foible. I wanted to get a rewards card, <em> any </em>rewards card. I-I wanted to talk briefly to someone and then say, ‘Take it sleazy.’"  She chuckles. “I wanted to eat a saltine.” </p><p>“Oh! I’ve got some saltines.” She picks one up and hands it to her. “Here, try this.”</p><p>She crunches on it. “Pretty dry... and too salty.” She stands up. “Well, going out on a real low note here. Okay, bye, everyone.” She turns to leave. </p><p>“Well, take it sleazy.” </p><p>Her face falls. “You got to say it?” </p><p>“Yeah, but now you can say it back…” </p><p>She shakes her head. “No, it's not organic.”</p>
<hr/><p>Being led to the kill switch, Diane frowns. “Uh, Todd, how many Todds have there been?” </p><p>“There have been twenty-five generations of Todd,” answers Todd. “Each new update of Todd gains more wisdom and social abilities. Fun fact -- the first Todd had a click wheel.” </p><p>“So it's like aging for a human? You're... you're growing up?” </p><p>“That's how I like to think of it, Diane.” He smiles. “I can't eat, so every time there's a new version of Todd, I like to take a piece of birthday cake and smash it around where my mouth is.”</p><p>Diane sighs and turns to BoJack. “Look, Todd has... has learned and grown. He's essentially living a life. We can't kill him.” </p><p>“Not with that attitude, we can't,” he counters. “Listen, man, I'm dead, you're dead, we all died, and now we're killing him. Pay it forward.” </p><p>“Uh, no, that's not what that means at all." He continues walking. "...BoJack?” </p><p>“Here we are.” Todd gestures toward a grey pole on which a large red button sits. “Just press that button, and it's good-bye, Todd.”</p><p>Diane groans. </p><p>“Diane,” he assures her. “I can see that you're worried, and I just want to assure you, I am not human, and I cannot feel pain.” </p><p>“Ah, thank you,” she replies, grimacing. “That helps.” </p><p>“However, I should warn you, I am programmed with a fail-safe measure. As you approach the kill switch, I will begin to beg for my life. It's just there in case of an accidental shut down, but it will seem very real.” </p><p>“Cool,” says BoJack nonchalantly. “So who's doing this, me or you? </p><p>“I, uh-- I think I have to. Um, being a bystander seems worse, somehow.” She sighs. “Okay, here we go.” She takes a step toward the button, and Todd bends over, begging. </p><p>“Diane, no, no, no! Diane, please! Please, please, <em> please </em>don't hurt me. I don't want to die! Please, please…” </p><p>“Ah!” She jumps back. </p><p>“Again, I am not human. I can't die. I am simply an anthropomorphized vessel of knowledge built to make your life easier.” </p><p>“Your pleading seems so real.” </p><p>“Oh, yes, it is a very effective fail-safe.” </p><p>BoJack rolls his eyes. “Ugh, you want a robot killed right, you have to do it yourself.” He steels himself, and takes a step toward the button. Immediately Todd produces a photo of three rabbit children. </p><p>“BoJack, no, no, no. Please, wait, wait, wait, wait. BoJack, I have kids. I have three beautiful children... Tyler, Emma, and little, tiny baby Phillip. Look at Tyler. Tyler has asthma, but he is battling it like a champ. Look at him. No, BoJack, look at them. Look at them!” He’s reduced to animalistic growling. “Look at them!” </p><p>“Aah!” He steps back. “It's so realistic!” </p><p>“BoJack, again, I'm not a person. This is a stock photo of the crowd at the Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards.”</p><p>BoJack sighs. “That's right, it's not real.” He turns to Diane. “Let's just do this.”</p><p><em> “Please, </em> I have so much to live for. No, no, no, <em> please.” </em> </p><p>Diane frowns. “We're not even near the…” </p><p>“Hey, guys, what's going on?” asks Mr. Peanutbutter. “That party was lame, so I bailed. Then I saw you, so I followed you here.” He sees the button. “Oh, look, a button.” Without hesitation, he presses it, and Todd falls to the ground. </p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter frowns. “Whoa. What happened to Todd?” </p><p>“He's... he's dead.” Diane’s hands find their way to her mouth in shock. “You, you -- you killed him.” </p><p>“Not killed,” corrects BoJack. “Remember, Todd was not a living being, so he can't be killed.”</p><p>The screen displaying Todd’s face that appears in the sky would beg to differ.  <em> “Attention... I have been murdered. Attention... I have been murdered. Attention... I have been murdered. Attention... I have been murdered. Attention…” </em></p>
<hr/><p>The funeral is a rather last-minute event. Everyone quickly changes into their black suits and dresses -- with the exception of Sarah Lynn, who insists that black shorts over ripped tights and a see-through black shirt that only avoids being inappropriate with some strategically placed hands is her ‘default funeral outfit’ -- and Todd’s body is placed in a coffin for an open-casket funeral.</p><p>“Well,” says Princess Carolyn. “Todd's been murdered. That's a nice capper to this wonderful day. I don't really know what happens now because Todd has never been murdered before... only today, here on my watch, while I was distracted with a party that Sarah Lynn was throwing for me, which I didn't want.”</p><p>“Aww, don’t blame yourself,” says Sarah Lynn, not looking up from her phone.</p><p>“I'm not. I'm blaming you. Anyway, what is there to say about Todd that hasn't already been said by the giant Todd alarm in the sky? ‘I've been murdered’! I think that says it all.” </p><p>“Hooray!”</p><p>Princess Carolyn screams in shock. The residents all gasp as Todd sits up in his casket. </p><p>“Todd, you're alive!”</p><p>“Hello, Architect, please enter your four-digit pin.” A number pad appears in front of his face. </p><p>“Uh, what is it? Uh, what is it? What is it? Um…” Her eyes widen. “Oh, right, right, right! It's my, uh... my birth year. Uh…” She taps the number zero four times. “I got to change that. That's too easy to guess. Todd... who murdered you?”</p><p>“Hooray!”</p><p>“...Oh, no.”</p><p>“Hooray!” </p><p>“Yes, hooray. Oh, yeah.” She turns to the neighbourhood. “Uh, his memory must have been wiped clean, so now he's gonna have to re-upload all the knowledge in the universe, which will only take a few days. Okay…” </p><p>“Hooray!” continues Todd, waving to various objects. “Hooray! Hooray!” </p><p>Princess Carolyn sighs. “Everyone, um, until I get to the bottom of this, my retirement is officially postponed.”</p>
<hr/><p>“You got to admit…” brags BoJack, once the three of them are safely back in his annoyingly small house. “I kind of nailed it. All we have to do now is keep the secret forever. Dog, you cool?” </p><p>“No,” whines Mr. Peanutbutter. “by the time I got to the piñata, all the candy was gone.”<br/>
“He's not gonna tell anyone. Diane?” He looks over at Diane, who is subtly rocking back and fourth on the couch, pulling her jacket over her body. “What's, uh, happening, buddy? You have a crazy look in your eye, and you're retreating into your jacket.”</p><p>Diane ignores him and turns to Mr. Peanutbutter. “I’m sorry. We’re over.”</p><p>His face falls. “What?”</p><p>“You <em> killed </em> Todd! I can’t date a murderer. If I date a murder, I’m telling him that it’s <em> okay. </em> And it’s <em> not.” </em></p>
<hr/><p>The second visitors were allowed, she eagerly ran into the room. “Roxy, are you all right? What happened?” </p><p>“I have an aneurysm,” explained Roxy. “Requires emergency surgery. Doctor's give me a fifty-fifty chance. So, if there's anything you need to say to me, you should do it now.”</p><p>Diane chuckled nervously. “Oh, well... actually, um…” Her eyes fell on the empty coffee cup by her bedside. “They let you take your coffee in here?” </p><p>“Hey, if I’m gonna go out, I wanna die being the thing I love most: A customer that isn’t rude. What did you want to say to me?” </p><p>“Oh, um…” She faltered. “just that I'm here and I love you, Roxy.” </p><p>“I love you, too, DIane.” </p><p>Several hours later, the movement in the bed woke Diane from her restless slumber in the chair. “Diane! You didn't have to stay here all night.” </p><p>“So surgery went well?” she asked anxiously. “All clear?” </p><p>“Right as rain, buddy.” </p><p>“That is so, so, so great. The R-word is a slur.” </p><p>She blinked. “What?” </p><p>“You said customers could be retarded three years ago, and I didn’t call you out, and enabling your ableism has haunted me ever since, and people tried to tell me it was fine... just trying not to make a scene for the sake of of social niceties... but I disagreed, and then yesterday I thought you were gonna die, but now you're not dead, and I can finally be honest and say you shouldn’t have called customers retarded.”</p><p>“...That was <em> three years ago.” </em> She raised an eyebrow. “I used to say it all the time, but I <em> don’t </em>anymore. I know better now.”</p><p>“Whoo, I can finally be honest!”</p><p>She sighed. “This is why everybody hates social justice warriors.” </p><p>“Yeah, I know. And I get it.”</p>
<hr/><p>“...I’m going to tell Princess Carolyn that Mr. Peanutbutter murdered Todd.”</p><p>BoJack bursts into laughter, then frowns. ‘What? Dude, why? Todd is <em> fine </em> . We didn't harm him at <em> all </em>.” </p><p>“We didn't?” questions Diane. “Hey, Todd?”</p><p>Todd appears with a satisfying <em> bing </em>in a corner of the room, staring at the wall. “Hooray!”</p><p>“Todd, would you please recite the English alphabet?” </p><p>“A-B... Todd.” </p><p>BoJack grins. “He knows his A-B-Todds.” </p><p>“He <em> literally </em> knew everything in the universe, and now he's a baby. And even if he <em> were </em>okay, it would be too painful for me to live with the knowledge that I’m being a bystander to all this.”</p><p>“What are you <em> talking </em>about? It is <em>so</em> easy to live with the knowledge that you’re being a bystander.” He rolls his eyes. “I once pretended not to notice that one of the child actors for my TV show was clearly being emotionally and probably sexually abused because it would have messed with the shooting schedule to get CPS involved. <em>Victimless</em> crime.”</p><p>Diane raises an eyebrow, then sighs. “Fine. I won't say anything because I promised to help you, and the moral implications... “ She sighs. “...Of everything that we've done are so complicated that I may <em> never </em> untangle them, but I <em>hate</em> enabling people. I always have, and this is going to eat me up inside <em>forever</em>. You might be able to shrug this off, and forget about it, but I <em>never</em> will.”</p>
<hr/><p>Princess Carolyn, understandably, calls a neighbourhood meeting. She stands on the stage and sighs. “Thank you for gathering, everyone. I want to keep you all updated. Here's what we know. Someone slaughtered Todd.”</p><p>Diane cowers in her seat; BoJack, next to her, shoots her a glare.</p><p>“I assume,” continues Princess Carolyn. “that this horrifying act is somehow related to the other issues we've had here. It also means that the problems in this neighborhood are not one hundred per cent my fault. There is something else at work here. If anyone has any information about any of this, I beg you, tell me.”</p><p>Diane wilts in her chair, breathing deeply. BoJack glances over at her. She looks so <em> scared </em> of being caught, and worse, so guilt-ridden. He places a hand on her knee. “Hey, I love you, Diane.” Ignoring her confused look, he stands up. “Princess Carolyn... the problem in the neighborhood... is <em> me.” </em> </p><p>All of the neighbourhood residents gasp. </p><p>“I was brought to the Good Place by mistake,” he continues. “I'm not supposed to be here.”</p><p>Genuine shock registers on Princess Carolyn’s face.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Most Improved Player</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Princess Carolyn struggles to decide what to do with BoJack.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw for mentions of abuse and implications of csa</p><p>fyi, the joke about how you get sent to the bad place for writing a 60k word fanfic that's an alternate ending to your own 70k word fanfiction isn't meant to be a callout for anyone, it's just a self-deprecating joke.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He blinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panic grips hold of him as he stares around at his surroundings. He’s in the waiting room. He’s sitting on a comfortable armchair, glancing around the room. Both of the walls to his side have wooden doors in them, and Sarah Lynn, Mr. Peanutbutter, and Diane are sitting around him anxiously. Apart from that, it’s a perfectly boring room; the walls are painted white, and the one directly across from him has the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>Welcome! Everything is fine. </span>
  </em>
  <span>painted in large green letters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Few things communicate that something is terribly wrong like the words “everything is fine”. He gulps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door to his left swings open. A young woman, a pink cat with a curl of fur at the top of her head, frowns at him. “BoJack? Come on in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He obeys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shuffles some papers on her desk. “Well, not often you get to confront your greatest failure face-to-face.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to see you, too, bud.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ignores this comment. “I am just </span>
  <em>
    <span>dumbfounded </span>
  </em>
  <span>as to how this happened. Our system has never made a mistake before... It's just not </span>
  <em>
    <span>possible</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She sighs. “First things first, who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> BoJack Horseman,” he explains. “and all of the info you had was right. I mean, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>play the horse in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Horsin’ Around, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and maybe that brought me a bunch of points. But I just don’t think it would have been enough to get me here -- I was an awful person behind the scenes of that show.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Location and date of birth, please?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“San Francisco, California, January second, 1969.” Princess Carolyn starts to scribble the date down and he grimaces. “So sorry, that's what I used to tell people when I lied about my age. I was born in 1964.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gives him an incredulous look. “You lied so much, you forgot your own birthday. Not a great start, but it should be enough for Todd to locate your file. Todd?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd appears with a satisfying </span>
  <em>
    <span>bing </span>
  </em>
  <span>and stares at the desk in shock. “What’s that?” He turns to look at a bowl full of paperclips in equal surprise. “What’s that?” Gasping aloud, he turns to see a plant. “What’s this?” He starts ruffling the plant’s leaves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His memory's still being rebooted,” she explains. “because, oh, you know, someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>murdered </span>
  </em>
  <span>him.” She turns to Todd. “Todd, could you please locate the file for a BoJack Horseman, born in….” She sighs, turning to BoJack. “1964?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he confirms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“San Francisco, Californa, USA.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” A tone chimes and he produces a cactus. “Anything else?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn stares at the cactus in her hand. “No, Todd, this is actually a cactus.” She sighs. “This might take a while.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd continues to excitedly ruffle the leaves of a plant. “Whee!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since Todd can't retrieve your file,” explains Princess Carolyn. “I need to find another way to determine what kind of person you were.” She reaches into a drawer under her desk and takes out a small notebook. “This is a quick litmus test. Handful of questions designed to tell whether you are fundamentally good or bad. Question number one: Did you ever commit a serious crime, such as murder, sexual harassment, arson, or otherwise?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” says BoJack, truthfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you ever have a vanity license plate, like ‘MAMASBMW,’LEXUS4LIZ,’ or ‘BOOBGUY’?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you ever reheat fish in an office microwave?” <br/></span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Ew, no.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever paid money to hear music performed by California funk rock band </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Red Hot Chili Peppers?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you ever write a sixty-thousand word fanfiction that you described as an ‘alternate ending’ for your own seventy-thousand word fanfiction?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sixty thousand words?” He cringes. “Who has that kind of time on their hands?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn leans forward, annoyed. “People who go to the Bad Place, BoJack, that's the point! And unless I can figure out a compelling reason to keep you here, you will spend eternity with murderers, and arsonists, and people who write sixty-thousand word fanfictions that they describe as being a ‘rewrite of the last four chapters’ of their own seventy-thousand word fanfiction?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack gulps. “Todd, can I have a glass of water, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd produces a cactus with a satisfying </span>
  <em>
    <span>bing </span>
  </em>
  <span>and produces a cactus. “Here you go.” There’s a short pause. “Oh, gosh, you said ‘water’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm so sorry.” He produces a different cactus. “There you go.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Diane continues to pace around the waiting room. Choosing to ignore Mr. Peanutbutter, who is sitting silently in a corner of the room, she turns to Sarah Lynn. “So what do you think? Should he go to the Bad Place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs. “I mean, we’ve all done shitty things. Maybe he’s done a few too many and he doesn’t deserve eternal paradise, but I don’t think he deserves to be tortured, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane gives her an incredulous look. “Do you know </span>
  <em>
    <span>half </span>
  </em>
  <span>the shit he’s done?” She gestures frantically. “He lied to everyone! He made a sinkhole that Charley fell into. He caused a trash storm! And that’s not even getting into what he did on Earth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face falls. “He was a friend to me, when I … </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>needed one.” She forces a grin and waves a hand dismissively. “Besides, I bet he hasn’t done anything on Earth that I didn’t already know about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, from what he’s told me…” She begins listing off points on her fingers. “He apparently regularly threw his friends under the bus, including someone called Herb and someone called Sharona…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Been there, done that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He lied about ‘getting’ Radiohead…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who hasn’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He saw a wallet outside an iHOP and thought about returning it, but saw that the owner lived out of state, so just took the cash and left it, </span>
  <em>
    <span>even though he’s rich…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, dick move, but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>evil.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would say it is! Also, he apparently brought weed from his girlfriend’s nephew, and had sex with his girlfriend’s best friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tilts her head. “Same girlfriend or different ones?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t say. And just yesterday, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>casually </span>
  </em>
  <span>told me that living with the knowledge that you’re a bystander is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so easy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>once pretended not to notice that one of the child actors for his TV show was clearly being emotionally and probably sexually abused, because it would have messed with the shooting schedule to get CPS involved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face falls. “Wait, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious! He described it as a ‘victimless crime’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn remains silent for a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the victim.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“And finally,” finishes Princess Carolyn. “a multi-part question: Did you ever appear on the American television program</span>
  <em>
    <span> The Bachelor</span>
  </em>
  <span> or its companion shows </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Bachelorette</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bachelor in Paradise</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or post on any social media site that you were emotionally invested in any of the relationships the contestants were pursuing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” answers BoJack, slightly confused but truthful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” She smiles. “You did very well on the questionnaire, BoJack. So far, so good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd appears with a satisfying </span>
  <em>
    <span>bing, </span>
  </em>
  <span>holding an unknown object behind his back. “Princess Carolyn, good news. I was able to obtain BoJack Horseman's file.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. “Is it actually a cactus?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I don't understand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to see the file for BoJack Horseman. Is that what you have, or do you have a cactus?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have the file.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're sure?” she presses. “You have the file and not a cactus?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is correct,” he confirms. “I have BoJack Horseman's file. I do not have a cactus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent. Please, give me the file.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here you go.” He gives her a cactus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. “Thank you, Todd.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're welcome.” He vanishes with a satisfying </span>
  <em>
    <span>bing.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack grins. “Well, I say we call it a day. I mean, I <em>nailed</em> the questionnaire, and you're swimming in cacti. Can't we just chalk this up to a hilarious mistake and move on?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we can't, BoJack,” she insists. “There's no such </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>as a mistake in this realm. And yet, you are, somehow, a mistake. I mean, you're a giant chunk of spinach in the teeth of the universe. I need to understand every facet of this disaster.” She produces a small white cube from underneath the desk. “Tell me a lie about yourself. Any lie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I love Ibsen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cube flashes red and produces a low tone. “And now a truth?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love </span>
  <em>
    <span>Horsin’ Around</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” The cube flashes green and plays a bright tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don't like to use this,” explains Princess Carolyn. “We've never really had a call for it before you, but in the interest of time. BoJack, did you murder Todd?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I did not.” The cube glows green. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know who did?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Green again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you tell me who it was?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...” He hesitates, mentally picturing the satisfaction of seeing his enemy suffer, but ultimately sighs. “No.” Once again, it flashes green.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. “I assume it was one of your friends, and I admire you for protecting him or her. But BoJack, in the Good Place, there's no room for bad people or bad actions, so anyone involved in the murder of Todd </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>be reviewed and judged, and there </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>be consequences.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stands up and marches over to the door, which she opens. “Sarah Lynn, come on in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn stands up. “See you, Diane.” She turns to BoJack, glaring. “See you, you irredeemable son of a bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...'Sup?” says BoJack uncertainly as she walks into the office and slams the door behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for confessing,” says Diane. “I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he interrupts. “I'm amazing. Bad news. Princess Carolyn knows I didn't kill Todd, which means it's only a matter of time before she finds out that Mr. Peanutbutter did. Then he'll figure out that Peanutbutter’s also a phony, and, here's the real dong-buster, Princess Carolyn said <em>anybody</em> who did <em>anything</em> bad might have to go…” He makes a thumbs down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane’s face falls. “Ohh…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which means Mr. Peanutbutter’s gone, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>might be gone, and all three of us are royally goddamn screwed!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is terrible,” moans Diane. “What am I supposed to do if she asks me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't know.” He hesitates. “Kant would say that lying in any scenario is wrong, so if Princess Carolyn asks you who killed Todd, you should say it was Mr. Peanutbutter. On the other hand, snitches <em>do</em> get stitches…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes widen. “You just casually cited Immanuel Kant. Yeah, I know we're in a miserable bind here, but this might be the proudest day of my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises an eyebrow. “No offense, but that's a really shitty life.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn, arms crossed, sits down in the office. Princess Carolyn sits across from her. “Sarah Lynn, I'll get right to the crux of the matter. Did you murder Todd?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.” The white cube on the desk turns green. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, you spent a lot of time with BoJack. Why do you think that is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face falls. “Well, I was kinda friends with him when we were alive, and I didn’t know anyone else here, so..." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She continues. “Given what you learned about BoJack, do you think he deserves to be here?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” She hesitates. “I don’t know if he should be tortured. But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>doesn’t belong here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you think that I should send him to the Bad Place?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I didn't say that, but is it really fair that he stays here despite being an </span>
  <em>
    <span>asshole, </span>
  </em>
  <span>when </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>of us worked hard to get here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sounds like you want him to leave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, is it not </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>who wants </span>
  <em>
    <span>us </span>
  </em>
  <span>to leave </span>
  <em>
    <span>him?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn raises an eyebrow. “Thank you, Sarah Lynn. You've been a big help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cube turns red.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>BoJack turns to Mr. Peanutbutter. “Listen up, genius. She's gonna call you in there in a second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don't worry,” insists the dog. “I got you. I'll just tell Princess Carolyn you're </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing</span>
  </em>
  <span> and that you got a kind heart and you’re very ethical.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack winces. “Oh, boy. No, don't say any of that. Princess Carolyn has a lie detector in there. It's a... it's a glowing cube.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His ears perk up. “Like the AllSpark? From </span>
  <em>
    <span>Transformers?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, uh, just like the AllSpark from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Transformers, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and... and she'll know instantly if you're lying about anything so ... I dunno, try and be all vague and shit, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter nods obediently, and Princess Carolyn calls him in. He takes a seat at the office. “Okay,” asks Princess Carolyn. “Did you murder Todd?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” The cube glows green.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know who did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Really,” he says cryptically. “Is it about </span>
  <em>
    <span>who </span>
  </em>
  <span>we know, or is it about </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>we know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh.” Her eyes widen. “You’re wise. That might help me. Give me your advice: What to do with BoJack? Should I let him stay? Should I send him away?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frantically shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I should let him stay? Or no, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>let him stay because he doesn't belong here? Or... no, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>let him stay even though he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>belong here?” She sighs. “Oh, Mr. Peanutbutter, I wish I had your wisdom. Your life and experience has given you something that I don't have: clarity. It was Buddha who said, ‘The man lives a pure life. Nothing can destroy him.’ I'm not a man, and I've lived no life, so will this destroy me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter pricks his finger on one of the many cactuses on the desk. “Ouch. This cactus is sharp.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, of course!” Her eyes widen. “A cactus on its own intends no harm. It's only when we interfere that it becomes dangerous. I need to remember my own agency here. Oh, thank you, Mr. Peanutbutter. You're free to go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool.” He frowns. “Can I have a cactus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, of course. Help yourself. I've got plenty of those.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>She opens the door. “Diane, come on in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane gulps. Todd appears with a satisfying </span>
  <em>
    <span>bing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Hooray! I have BoJack’s file.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn groans. “Todd, if you hand me a cactus, I swear I will lose my mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hands her the file.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes! All right, here we go.” She turns to BoJack. “BoJack, come back in. Diane, you stay here.” She leads him inside and they sit down. “This file contains a compendium of all of the highest impact events from your life, that's the, uh, biggest positive and negative point swings.” She starts reading the file. “The biggest good thing is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Horsin’ Around, </span>
  </em>
  <span>no surprise there. So what’s this -- ‘Hair and makeup lady gets fired’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack grimaces. “Uh, can we skip around and... and circle back? How about I tell you more about </span>
  <em>
    <span>Horsin’ Around </span>
  </em>
  <span>and all the kids it helped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let's hear about the hair and makeup lady, please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs. “Eeeh, okay. I'll tell you, but it doesn't make me look great, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>don't </span>
  </em>
  <span>judge me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>the purpose of this entire exercise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignores this. “Okay, to understand this, you need to know about Herb Kazzaz, the guy who made </span>
  <em>
    <span>Horsin’ Around. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>great. </span>
  </em>
  <span>We were really great friends, but we kinda grew apart. We got close again after he was outed as gay, though.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I feel like you’re just being whiny. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wish </span>
  </em>
  <span>my parents would hurry up and disown me already, get over yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Herb blinked. “Loving the compassion, BJ.” He sighed. “You and this show are </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’ve got right now. I need to know that I’m not in danger of losing that, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve asked me if I’m still planning on threatening to walk every day for the last </span>
  <em>
    <span>week.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He wilted under BoJack’s glare. “Sorry! I just -- I want to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be sure. I’ve got your back. Whatever.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Long story short, I didn’t actually have his back, and he got fired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn sighs. “Well, that’s … not exactly great, but I assume you apologised and helped him get back on his feet afterwards.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Not exactly.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>As Joelle hung up, he frowned. “Hey, who was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Herb,” she answered, a tinge of bitterness in her voice. She was the only one who was old enough to fully understand exactly why he was fired, and exactly who could have prevented it but didn’t. “Should I tell him you said hi the next time he calls?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rubbed the back of her neck nervously. “Ooh… Bad idea. I haven’t spoken to him or even acknowledged his existence since he got fired. He’s probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>super </span>
  </em>
  <span>pissed.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“And I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>no idea </span>
  </em>
  <span>what’s been going on with him since then,” he continues. “I dunno if it was just a job and he recovered, or if he’s still trying to make a living as a minimum wage bartender or something wondering why I stabbed him in the back. For all I know, he’s dead -- though I guess he’d be here if he was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, boy.” Her eyes widen. “Wait, Herb was the writer. This story’s about the hair and makeup lady.” Her face falls. “There’s more, isn’t there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...A little.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>He read over the new scripts, frowning. Changing the plot last-minute to being about how Sabrina </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>sneak into his workplace really caused a lot of non sequiturs and incomprehensible events… Then again, Danny Bananas wasn’t exactly the best writer in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bradley frowned. “Hey, BoJack, why’d Sarah have to go home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitated, but despite the way the writers tried to insist they were still young, Bradley was clearly a teenager now, and the knowledge wouldn’t kill him. “She got sick from getting into the vodka.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh.” His face fell. “Was it yours or Sharona’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not sure.” After a pause, he added, “It was probably Sharona’s, though.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>She gives him an incredulous look. “No, no, no. Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>tell me you got Sharona fired to save your own ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wish I could tell you that, girl.” He sighs. “Really do.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>He gestured wildly, trying to justify what he was saying, both to her and to himself. “If I get fired now, the whole show’s over. And that means what I did was for nothing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised an eyebrow. “What you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“To Herb, I mean.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>She sighs. “I can’t believe you got her fired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it help if she basically got herself fired?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you know it does not. BoJack. Given what you know about the people who’ve been brought here, the lives they’ve led, do you think you belong in the Good Place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitates. “...No. I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lie detector grows green.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn presses a button and something beeps. “Yello, Bad Place. What’s up, dummy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Princess Carolyn, the architect from Good Place Neighbourhood 12358W. I’m guessing you’ve been looking for someone called BoJack Horseman. He’s here. Come and get him.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>A train pulls up at the station, and a rabbit comes out, followed by several demons. “Hello, Rutabaga,” says Princess Carolyn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, there she is,” replies the rabbit. “Good to see you again, Carolyn. Hey, think fast, I brought you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hands her a can and she looks at it. “Oh, tuna, thank you.” She opens it, and several snakes of fire pop out. “Oh!” She ignores the demons’ laughter. “Oh, flaming snake ate all the tuna you brought me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rutabaga groans. “You're too nice to humiliate. Oh, hello.” His eyes fall on BoJack, who’s cowering behind Princess Carolyn. “Hi, you look like a stupid piece of shit, are... are you BoJack? Dude, you're like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>legend </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the Bad Place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack gulps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rutabaga…” mutters Princess Carolyn uncertainly. “Do you know what caused this mistake? 'Cause I <em>cannot</em> figure it out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we're stumped, but, uh, don't sweat it, champ. He's definitely one of ours. So we'll just roll on out, and you can get back to, uh, putting rainbows up your butt or whatever you do here. Okay? Let's hit it, sweetheart. We got a long ride.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack’s eyes widen. “What? Right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn sighs. “Rutabaga, for decency's sake, let him have some good-byes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rutabaga groans. “God, good people are the worst.” He glances at his watch. “Okay, uh, thirty minutes. We gotta get back for </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Bachelor. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I'm gonna be pissed if I miss the Rose Ceremony.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“I just want to say,” he rants, while packing a bag that will almost certainly be taken from him. “once more, for the record, that this whole good-bad system is bullshit. There should be a <em>medium</em> place for people like me who kind of sucked, but in, like, a fun, chill way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane, against all odds, nods. “I agree.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at her guiltily. “I'm sorry I dragged you into this. And that I never did laundry. And that I waited until you were about to do yours then secretly tossed mine into the basket to trick you into doing it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn't trick me. I repeatedly asked you to stop.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignores this. “Just know you did everything you could to help me. You're a really good friend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a knocking at the door that proves to be completely pointless when Sarah Lynn lets herself in. BoJack frowns. “What are you doing here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she admits. “I know you’re a dick, but I figured, eh, better see you off. It's the neighborly thing to do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widen. “You came to say good-bye because you're my friend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I... suppose </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>part of me possibly has a sense of casual kinship or some bullshit with you. Much as one might be fond of a broken toy they see on the side of the road.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Sarah Lynn. Sorry about everything. I'm really glad we're friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Diane alone who walks him to the station, where Rutabaga smirks at them. “Oh, hey, dum-dum. You ready to go? Oh, you must be Diane. Trying to improve him. Bold plan.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane twitches. “Well, actually, he learned a great deal in a very short amount of time…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, really? Really? I don't care. All right, let's hit it.” He turns back to Diane. “Oh, also, you should smile more. You have such a pretty smile. Love you, babe. Wish I could torture you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s not his job.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>She’s in her office, trying to eat the pizza. It’s barely edible, and there’s so much of it, but who else would eat it? She shoved another putrid slice into her mouth, and promptly spits it out -- luckily, onto the floor instead of in her visitor’s face -- when the door slams open. “Princess Carolyn…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hi, Diane. Want some pizza?” She gestures at the several boxes of the stuff. “The Bad Place crew delivered a hundred of these to my office. All Hawaiian, the worst pizza.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane gulps. “Princess Carolyn, Mr. Peanutbutter murdered Todd. I knew about BoJack from the beginning and so does he. I've been trying to help him become a better person, and when he found out that your retirement meant that you would be tortured, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>immediately </span>
  </em>
  <span>tried to find a way to prevent it. BoJack is learning, he's just doing it <em>after</em> he died.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>enjoy his company.” She shakes her head. “But, this is not Little League. There is no award for Most Improved Player, Diane.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath and looks her dead in the eyes. “Well, maybe there should be.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“One final note,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> the announcer finishes.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “the dining car is at the very back of the train. It serves only room-temperature Manhattan clam chowder, and also, it's closed. Okay, here we go.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The train starts chugging along, and BoJack stares out the window with a mix of sadness and anxiety. He tries to take it all in, to have a good memory of what he’s leaving behind, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t, </span>
  </em>
  <span>can’t remember the sacrifices Diane made for him without feeling wave upon wave of guilt. With a sigh that fogs up the windows, he looks down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s interrupted in his thoughts by a shout, one so loud that he can hear it through the walls and beyond the roar of the engine. It’s Princess Carolyn’s voice, and she’s determined and defiant. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop this train!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The train screeches to a halt, and he stands up, confused. Princess Carolyn gestures for him to get out, and he eagerly does so. Rutabaga quickly follows, turning on Princess Carolyn. “What the hell?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're not leaving,” says Princess Carolyn defiantly. “Not with him. Not yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>keep </span>
  </em>
  <span>him?” He’s incredulous. “Carolyn, that's our guy. We agreed on this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, what we agreed on was that this was a mistake. We're in uncharted territory here. Until we can sort this out, he stays with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes. “Pfft, all right, fine, but until this is resolved, we're keeping the other guy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. What?” She frowns. “I'm sorry... The other guy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>guy. The one that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>responsible for all the kids that loved </span>
  <em>
    <span>Horsin’ Around, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but someone thought BoJack was responsible, so they sent the guy with us? He's on the train.” He turns back to the train. “Oi, human, come on out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long, ominous silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they can make out the slow, quiet footsteps on the train. The man that steps out is familiar to BoJack, but nobody else. He’s short, with shaggy brown hair, and he’s looking around at the station with wide, vulnerable eyes -- eyes that have seen things that were meant for someone else, eyes that have quite literally been through Hell. “Hi,” he says nervously, looking around at Princess Carolyn and Diane, his eyes only meeting BoJack’s for a second before he glares and looks away. “I’m Herb Kazzaz.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. ...Someone Like Me As A Member</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Princess Carolyn negotiates with Rutabaga for BoJack to stay in the Good Place.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The atmosphere remains thick with tension. They take turns staring at each other, opening their mouths to talk but knowing that they could never say a fraction of all the words that loom ominously unsaid ahead of them, looking away the second the other turns their way, unable or unwilling to make eye contact. There’s bitterness between them, and guilt, and a thousand regrets.</p><p>“Hey, dingdongs,” interrupts Rutabaga. “We figured out what's happened here. You two were both at the stupid-ass party where Herb pitched <em> Horsin’ Around, </em>and you both continued to be on the show together. Herb left before BJ, so the system assumed that BJ was responsible for it.” </p><p>“Incredibly,” continues Princess Carolyn. “you both died in the same ten-thousandths of a second, approximately the same distance away from the same bar.”</p><p>BoJack forces a strained smirk. “So how’d you die, AIDS?”</p><p>Herb gives him a disgusted look. “No, it was cancer. Why would you assume it was AIDS?”</p><p>“...No reason.” </p><p>The look Herb gives him seems to communicate that everyone is very aware of the reason. “Rectal cancer, if you must know,” he snarls. “I didn’t notice the signs as fast as you would have in my position, because unlike you, I don’t constantly have my head three feet up my own ass.”</p><p>Rutabaga clears his throat. “Whatever, we got our wires crossed, we picked up the wrong dot, blah, blah, blah. Point is, there are two guys. The nice, boring Herb is yours. The trash bag BJ is ours... So, trash bag, let's go. “ He stands up. “Let's hit it. And also…” He turns to Diane. “I'm still waiting on that smile, gorgeous.” </p><p>“Rutabaga,” warns Princess Carolyn. </p><p>“Where's that smile?” </p><p>“Rutabaga,” suggests Princess Carolyn. “how about we negotiate? Maybe give you something else.” </p><p>He smirks. “What in the world could you have that we would want?” </p><p>“All right, how about a unicorn? Right? I bet you don't have one of those.” </p><p>“No, that is true, yeah.” He laughs. “Might be fun to skin it alive, eat its raw flesh, maybe break off the horn, grind it up, snort it. Okay, let's keep talking.”</p><p>The meeting is adjourned, and Princess Carolyn pulls BoJack aside. “BJ, a word?” </p><p>“It's BoJack,” he insists. “You can just say, ‘BoJack’." </p><p>“Sorry, it just makes things easier. Look, I'm not even sure how it would work for you to stay here now that we know you’re taking someone else’s place, but in the meantime, stay on your toes. Don't let Rutabaga get inside your head.” </p><p>He frowns. “Can I ask you something?” At her nod, he adds, “Why are you helping me?” </p><p>She hesitates. “Well, Diane made a very good argument on your behalf, but it's more than that. I truly believe that the Good Place is where you belong. You're part of our <em> team.” </em></p><p>His frown deepens. </p><hr/><p>He held up a hand to shut that <em> annoying </em> dog woman up before she was halfway through a sentence. “No, I don’t want to be <em> friends.” </em></p><p>She blinked. “Uh, I just wanted to --”</p><p>“Say my set was great, so you can then start a conversation, then agree to meet up again -- I’ve heard this story before, bitch.” He leaned back in his seat. “If you wanna bang, then let’s just bang already. I’m not gonna be a stupid-ass gentleman and try to buy you a drink because I’m <em> broke. </em> If you don’t wanna bang, then <em> get lost.” </em></p><p>She wilted under his glare and scampered to some unknown corner of Elefante. He was almost immediately approached by an equally annoying elephant man. “Yeah, she’s just annoying and bitchy. Don’t listen to her. Do you want to --”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>He paused, taken aback. “Are you sure you don’t --”</p><p>“Oh, for God’s sake.” He stood up and cupped his hands around his mouth to yell. “Newsflash, guys, I don’t <em> care </em> if you liked my set, I don’t want to hear you gush about me and I sure as hell don’t want to be your <em> friend.” </em></p><p>There was a long, ominous silence.</p><p>“Hey,” asked one man. “Are you <em> sure </em>you don’t want to --”</p><p>“Get cancer, dickwad.”</p><hr/><p>Sarah Lynn opens the door. “Hey, PC, what’s up?” </p><p>“Well,” she explains. “if I'm going to save BJ, I need some help negotiating. I don't even know what to <em> offer </em>. I mean, what do you get somebody who wants to eat a unicorn?” Her eyes widen. “A unicorn bib, yes! No, no, uh, unicorn holders, you know, like... like, corn holders, but for unicorns?”</p><p>Sarah Lynn grimaces. “Maybe, it'd be better if we just move away from the unicorn thing.”</p><p>She sighs. “No, you're right, you're right. And anyway, there's a bigger problem: the Bad Place Crew... they're all terrible bullies, and they outnumber me. They even have their own equivalent to Todd, I'll show you.” She walks into the living room. “Emily?”</p><p>A young woman with olive skin and red hair materialises with an unsatisfying <em> bing. </em>“What?” she asks irritably, not looking up from her phone.</p><p>“Emily, uh, where is the nearest café?” </p><p>“Oh, um, that's a good question. It's up your mom's butt, you fat dink.” She vanishes with an equally unsatisfying noise. </p><p>Sarah Lynn raises an eyebrow. “What’s the point of her?”</p><p>“Unclear, but the... the point is I never have to deal with negative emotion of any sort. I could use some backup, Sarah Lynn.” </p><p>“Oh, yeah, sure.” Her eyes widen. “Why don't you just bring them all here? My house is <em> huge, </em>I bet they’ll love it.”</p><p>Princess Carolyn nods eagerly. “Oh, perfect, perfect. I'll be right back.”</p><hr/><p>“Well…” He grimaces as he pushes the door open. “Here’s your house.”</p><p>“Wow! It’s <em> exactly </em>the right size.”</p><p>Rutabaga glances at one of the machines in the kitchen, the one that does nothing except make honeydew, which makes all of the shops that exclusively sell honeydew even more pointless. “Hey, BJ, we used this same machine to make the honeydew you were meant to eat down there, I swear to Bieber.”</p><p>Diane frowns. “Hey, Herb, what was your house like?”</p><p>“Well,” explains Herb. “I was living in what I assume was BoJack’s worst nightmare. Every day was basically one endless birthday party for someone I <em> should </em>know well enough to plan a party for but don’t, and somehow I also had to organize it. And every time I forgot Sarah Lynn was Jewish, I got a very strong electric shock.”</p><p>BoJack’s eyes widen. “Wait, Sarah Lynn’s Jewish?! Since when?!”</p><p>Rutabaga grins. “Yeah, that was my pitch.”</p><p>“And then at night, it was pretty classic torture,” continues Herb. “Uh, flying piranhas, lava monsters, college improv, and there was always jazz music playing.” </p><p>BoJack groans. “Ugh, I <em> hate </em> jazz. Every jazz song is, like, forty minutes long. It's like, we <em> get </em>it, you can blow on a trumpet. Wrap it up, Elton John.” </p><p>“Famously a piano player,” corrects Diane.</p><p>There’s a long, painful silence.</p><p>“So…” BoJack rubs the back of his neck nervously, turning to Herb. “Are we cool?”</p><p>“No.” He gives BoJack an incredulous look. <em> “Why </em>would we be cool?! You betrayed me when I needed you most, I was tortured in literal Hell because of you for several months, and your plan to save your own ass is probably going to involve me being tortured in Hell for eternity.”</p><p>“I know,” says BoJack, somewhat defensively. “And I’m sorry?”</p><p>“You’re <em> sorry?” </em></p><p>“Yes. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Okay,” says Herb nonchalantly. “I don't forgive you.”</p><p>BoJack is genuinely shocked. “Herb, I said I'm sorry.”</p><p>“Yeah, and I do not forgive you.”</p><p>He frowns. “Uh, not sure you get what's happening here? This could be the last time that you--”</p><p><em> “No!” </em> He points a finger accusingly at BoJack. “I'm not gonna give you <em> closure </em> . You don't <em> get </em> that! You have to live with the shitty thing you did for the rest of eternity. You have to know that it's never, <em> ever </em>going to be okay!”</p><p>BoJack takes a step back. “I <em> really </em>think that we'd both feel better if we'd just…”</p><p>“I'm <em> dead! </em> I'm not gonna feel better! And I'm not gonna be your prop so <em> you </em>can feel better! </p><p>“You have to believe me, I did everything I could!”</p><p><b>“</b>Yeah?” challenges Herb. “Then why didn't you call me, huh? Fourteen years, and you didn't call me!”</p><p>“L-look, I wanted to, but I didn't think that...:</p><p>“Do you know what it was like for me? I had <em> nobody </em> . <em> Everybody </em> left! I knew all those showbiz phonies would turn on me, sure, but <em> you?!” </em></p><p>“It's not my fault you got fired.”</p><p>“I don't care about the job!” His voice rises to a shout. “I did fine. I had a good life. But what I needed then was... a friend. And you abandoned me. And I may <em> never </em> forgive you for that. Now get the <em> hell </em>out of my house!”</p><p>Diane clears her throat in an attempt to defuse the argument. “Dinner!” she says in a strained voice. “They don’t have normal food in the Bad Place, do they? You must be <em> so </em>hungry.”</p><p>BoJack nods eagerly. “Yeah. Dinner. Let’s get dinner.”</p><hr/><p>She comes out of the kitchen with yet another plate of desserts. “All right, PC, here’s the plan: start with food to get them happy, and then we're going to subtly start the whole negotiation thing. They're <em> sure </em>to be in a good mood.”</p><p>“This is <em> awful.” </em>says one demon. </p><p>“Yes,” agrees another. “this food is horrific. Excuse me, Todd?” </p><p>“Hooray!” says Todd, appearing with a satisfying <em> bing. </em> </p><p>“Oh, I beg of thee, produce some maple syrup for us to drink straight from the bottle.” </p><p>“Sure,” says Todd. “quick question: what is a ‘maple’? Also: what is a ‘syrup’? Also: what is ‘maple syrup’?”</p><p>Princess Carolyn grimaces. “Oops, sorry, guys. Uh, see, in the confusion, Todd got rebooted, so he hasn't quite uploaded all of the info he usually knows.”</p><p>The demons laugh. “That's hilarious. He's almost as stupid as people.” </p><p>“Oh, hey now, come on. Let's not insult people, please.”</p><p>One of the demons speaks in a high-pitched voice to mock her. “Uh, I'm Princess Carolyn, I love, uh, idiot people!”</p><p>The demons once more roar into laughter, which she forces herself to join in. “I gotta admit... that does sound like me.” </p><p>
  <em> "I got to admit... that does sound like me."  </em>
</p><p>“Oh, nailed it again!”</p><p>More laughter.</p><p>“Go get me a drink,” demands one demon.</p><p>“Yes, of course.”</p><hr/><p>As Diane and Herb eagerly split their meal, Rutabaga turns to BoJack with a grin. “I can't believe you thought you could pretend to be as good as Herb. He's like a perfect ball of light, and you're like a... wet pile of mulch. Someone made a person out of wet mulch and leaves and, like, dead slugs, and that's you.” </p><p>“Whatever,” snarls BoJack. “it's easy when you're just born perfect. My parents were both dirtbags who used to fight all the time.” </p><p>Herb frowns. “I don't mean to eavesdrop, but did you say your parents used to fight a lot?” </p><p>“Yeah,” continues BoJack. “and that kind of thing really changes a person. I mean, that trauma... It can explain away a <em> lot </em>of behavior.” </p><p>“Oh, of course.” It’s hard to tell whether he’s being sarcastic or not. </p><p>“Your parents loved each other loads, I guess?” </p><p>“Oh, actually, um, I... I'm not sure.” His face falls. “I never met my birth parents. They put me in an empty fish tank and abandoned me at a train station in California.”</p><p>BoJack’s eyes widen with concern; Rutabaga groans.</p><p>“Luckily,” he continues. “I was found and adopted by a very nice couple, the Kazzaz’s…” </p><p>“Oh, thank God,” says Diane, while BoJack breathes a sigh of relief. </p><p>“But then they disowned me for being gay…” </p><p>“That's awful,” says Diane. </p><p>He waves a hand dismissively. “Anyway, LGBT shelter burned down, yadda yadda yadda, made a fake identity so I could get a job without worrying about homophobia, yadda yadda yadda, learned English from watching <em> Seinfeld </em>, got cancer, and here I am.”</p><p>BoJack frowns. “You grew up in America, why the hell did you need to teach yourself English watching <em> Seinfeld?” </em> </p><p>Rutabaga ignores this. “And, I'm sorry, what... What is it you said happened to you? The same thing that happens to <em> literally everyone </em>?” He laughs. </p><p>“And for you to have gone through all that,” says Diane, staring at Herb. “and to end up where you did, it is just... It's just amazing.” </p><p>“Oh, man,” says Rutabaga. “these horndogs are vibing like mofos. Am I right, BJ?” </p><p>He stiffens. “Please, stop calling me that.” </p><p>“Oh, you got it, trashbag.”</p><hr/><p>He walks around the mansion, searching for some way he can help with the party and/or negotiation, and spots Todd sitting dejectedly on a wooden chair. “Hey, Todd. You look sad.”</p><p>Todd sighs. “People keep asking me questions that I don't know the answers to.” </p><p>“That was my whole life on Earth!” He smiles. “You know, it doesn't matter if you know things. All that matters is what's in your heart.” </p><p>“Thanks, Mr. Peanutbutter,” says Todd. “I mean, it does matter if I know things, because I'm an informational delivery system, and I don't have a heart, but thanks. Hey, I know usually you ask me questions, but can I ask you a question?” </p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>He hesitates. “What is maple syrup?” </p><p>“Oh, I know this one!” His ears perk up in excitement. “Okay, it’s syrup made from the sap on maple leaves. One time, I brought a whole bunch from the grocery store in Labrador Peninsula -- but the nice one, not the one above the gas station -- and I drank fifty bottles of it, straight from the bottle, in two minutes. Everyone at the hospital was so impressed.” </p><p>“...Got it,” says Todd, giving a thumbs up. “Thanks, Mr. Peanutbutter.” </p><p>“You're welcome.” He hesitates, then wraps his arms around Todd. They enjoy a long, loving hug. They move apart and Todd blinks.</p><p>“Why did you do that?”</p><p>“Because Diane thinks I’m <em> mean </em>now, since I murdered you,” he explains, frowning. “But you don’t seem to care.”</p><p>There’s a long, ominous silence.</p><p>“...Okay.”</p><hr/><p>She stares at the demons, who are idly lounging while politely chatting amongst themselves. “Anyone up for a little, uh, icebreaker?” she suggests weakly. “I once broke a giant-ass block of ice over some dude’s head and we were friends for, like, <em> ever. </em> And then once we trust each other, then we can figure something out for BJ.” </p><p>“I must say,” complains one demon. “How do you guys eat without listening to hard-core porn?”</p><p>“Oh, come on,” snaps Princess Carolyn. “this is the Good Place, you can do anything you want.”</p><p>“What about throwing a rager and totally trashing this place?”</p><p>Sarah Lynn’s eyes widen. “Yeah, that would be <em> so </em>fun, let’s do it!”</p><p>“Whoo-hoo!” yells one demon.</p><p>“Yeah,” yells another. “Let’s party!”</p><p>They all rise to their feet and continue to idly chat, but with incredibly boring classical music playing in the background.</p><p>“...That’s it?” asks Sarah Lynn. “You’re not even gonna, I dunno, dance?”</p><p>As answer, two of the demons start elegantly waltzing with each other. She groans. </p><hr/><p>The silence becomes too much, and Herb finally says, “So, um, Diane tells me that she's teaching you about ethics.” </p><p>“Yeah, actually,” he explains. “we've had some interesting and in-depth classes. She taught me about Plato and Socrates, Immanuel Kant--” </p><p>“Yeah, cool, shut up,” interrupts Rutabaga. “Let's cut to the chase here... Were you two b’thumping?”</p><p>BoJack blinks. “B’thumping?”</p><p>“B’thumping, bro. You two bang it out? He hot for teach? Did you pork the dork? C'mon, guy, dish me dem dirty deets.”</p><p>Diane clears her throat. “I assure you, our relationship was teacher-student, nothing more.”</p><p>Herb groans. “God, I don’t want to hear about you two. Hey, I'd love to see the rest of the neighborhood.” </p><p>“Uh, yes, it's... it's incredible,” explains Diane. “Um, there's an amazing library, there's a beautiful, piranha-free lake.”</p><p>Herb forces a laugh. “Well, please, show me everything.” He turns to BoJack. “Are you coming?” </p><p>He shakes his head. “I've seen it all already. You guys go ahead.” </p><p>Diane raises an eyebrow. “You'd rather be alone with him?”</p><p>BoJack hesitates. “Yeah, I mean, I don't need to walk around and nerd out about old books. I'm good.” </p><hr/><p>He leaned over under the pretense of wiping the bench. “Hey, Charlotte and I are gonna go see <em> The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 </em>tomorrow night. Do you want to come?” </p><p>BoJack raised an eyebrow. “They made a second <em> The Texas Chainsaw Massacre? </em>What is there left to say? Sure, whatever, I'm in.” </p><p>“Cool, okay, well, I'll head by the theatre after work to get tickets for the three of us, and you can just pay me back in cash.” </p><p>He scoffed. “So you can get all the points on your credit card, and the rest of us get screwed? No way.” </p><p>Herb frowned. “No, it's just so we can all get tickets before they sell out. Do you want to buy them?” </p><p>“So you guys can never pay me back, and I'll be out like thirty bucks? Nice try.” He rolled his eyes. “I'll buy my own ticket. You and Charlotte can do whatever you want.” </p><p>To the surprise of absolutely nobody, the following night, Herb strained his neck to look around, to where BoJack was sitting several rows behind him, bragging. “Bought it with points, baby. <em> My </em>points.” </p><p>Herb groaned. “I think I need to find a new horse for my great sitcom idea.”</p><hr/><p>She spies one of the demons inserting white powder into their pipe, and even though she has <em> no </em> idea how to use their crazy Victorian-era bullshit, she eagerly taps them on the shoulder. “Can I have some? I <em> love </em>cocaine.”</p><p>“It’s not cocaine, <em> fool,” </em>they snarl. “I’m smoking time.”</p><p>“...Sorry, you’re smoking the <em>concept </em>of time?”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s <em> great.” </em></p><p>“...Can I have some?”</p><p>“Of course not.”</p><p>Another demon walks up to them with several karaoke microphones in hand. “Dana, baby, what do you wanna do?”</p><p>Dana thinks for a moment. “Okay, Mussolini's speech? Ooh, the Mel Gibson rant?” </p><p>“That's a classic.” </p><p>“Classic... Ooh, let's do the Nixon Tapes... that's my jam! Yeah!” </p><p>They set up the karaoke machine, and the screen displays a picture of Nixon. They begin the karaoke.</p><p><em> "What you always have to remember about the Irish is they get mean. Virtually every Irish I've known gets mean when he drinks." </em> Everyone cheers. </p><p>“PC,” hisses Sarah Lynn. “tell them to stop.” </p><p>“Oh, I think I made it pretty clear that I don't approve.” </p><p>“Princess Carolyn, you fool,” snarls one demon. “Dance.” </p><p>She immediately starts dancing. “You got it.”</p><p>
  <em> "Oh, it's about damn time that the Jew in America realizes he's an American first and a Jew second." </em>
</p><hr/><p>Rutabaga laughs drunkenly. “I lighted him on fire, and he never spoke again.” </p><p>BoJack pouts. “You know, maybe I'm not as great as Herb, but I'm better than I used to be. I'm medium-good. Why haven't you assholes invented a medium place?” </p><p>“Look, I know you've been trying to become a ‘better person,’" he says with air quotes. “I mean, you didn't want to get caught. I get it. But I read your file... You don't belong here.” He points in the general direction of Herb. “I mean, he spent his weekends raising money for charity. You once threw a tantrum in a grocery store because there was a cup for if you wanted to donate to charity.” He chuckles. “I mean, honestly, you'll be happier in the Bad Place. I mean, don't get me wrong, you'll be miserable. We will torture you, but you'll also be happier because you won't have to keep trying to fit in somewhere you just don't belong.”</p><p>BoJack sighs. “A'ight. Let's go.” </p><p>“Okay, hold on, I have to ask: is this thing gonna happen?” BoJack raises an eyebrow and he elaborates. “You and me?” </p><p>“Ew, no, gross. I’m straight.” </p><p>“Okay, you know I had to ask, babe.”</p><hr/><p>He blinks.</p><p>His head is <em> pounding -- </em>God, it’s unbelievable how quick he got used to not having hangovers. He groans aloud at the pain. “Oh... Oh, my head.” </p><p>He places a hand to his temples, and Diane hands him a glass of water. “Here, drink this.” </p><p>He hesitantly sips the water. “How am I hung over? I thought there were no hangovers here. “</p><p>“Well, the Bad Place Crew requested the hangover filter be turned off. They <em> like </em>them.” She clears her throat. “So, Princess Carolyn said we're meeting at Sarah Lynn’s place in an hour for a negotiation session. We'll walk over together?” </p><p>BoJack grimaces. “You don't have to come, Diane. I'm good. Just hang out with Herb and name constellations after each other, or whatever it is nerds do. I'm fine on my own.” </p><p>Diane raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, BoJack, just because we have a new guest in the house doesn't mean I'm not still gonna be there for you. I'm in this. We're a <em> team.” </em></p><hr/><p>He read over the scripts again, trying to memorize them. He was supposed to have memorized them some two and a half months ago, when they were first given to him, but he was busy and drunk. He was still busy and drunk, but now the deadline was looming closer than ever, so he tried to read it.</p><p>There was a knock on the door.</p><p>“Ugh, come in,” he called.</p><p>The door swung open, and Herb nervously walked in.</p><p>He groaned. “What?”</p><p>“I, uh.” He frowned. “Sharona told me about your fight the other day.”</p><p>“Ugh, she’s so bitchy,” he whined. “She thinks she’s <em> better </em>than me because she tried to quit drinking.”</p><p>“...Can’t <em> you </em>quit drinking?” asked Herb, his frown deepening. “Look, BJ, I, uh -- I don’t like how we’ve been growing apart since the show started, and I’m sorry I haven’t been more of a friend to you lately. I’m worried about you.”</p><p>“Whatever,” said BoJack carelessly, still trying to memorize the scripts. He took a sip from his vodka bottle.</p><p>“BJ, is everything okay? You never used to drink that much, and now you’re <em> always </em>drunk. Is something going on?”</p><p>“Nothing’s <em> going on,” </em>he snarled. “I just like drinking, is that a crime now?”</p><p>“Nobody said it is. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He sighed. “I’m sorry we’ve grown so far apart, okay? I wanna be friends again.”</p><p>“Whatever.”</p><hr/><p>When BoJack and Diane walk into the room, they’re apparently late; Sarah Lynn, Princess Carolyn, Herb, and the demons are already there. “All right,” says Princess Carolyn. “let's begin negotiations. Now, we would like to discuss various trades that we could…” </p><p>“Oh, yeah, we're not negotiating,” explains Rutabaga. “See, BJ and I, we bro-ed down pretty hard last night. We hooked up.”</p><p>BoJack frowns. “No, we didn't.” </p><p>“Yeah, but who are they gonna believe... me or a known liar?” He laughs. “Point is, he knows that he doesn't belong here, and he's giving up.” </p><p>“...Is this true?” Princess Carolyn’s face falls. “BJ, are you giving up?” </p><p>“Yeah, of <em> course </em>he is. He knows this place isn't for him.” He stands up. “Let's go, dingdong. Come on.” </p><p>BoJack gulps. “No,” he says defiantly. “I'm not leaving.” </p><p>Rutabaga groans. “Oh, come on, sweetheart, we've been through this. You know you don't belong here.” </p><p>“You're right. I don't... But I <em> want </em>to.” He shoots Herb a pleading look. “I used to never want to be a part of any group, but I'm a different person now because of the person who helped me, and I want to be like her. I want to be like all the people who are here.” </p><p>Herb raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you can, if you stop being such a goddamn coward.”</p><p>“Thanks, Herb.” </p><p>“Hey,” snaps Rutabaga. “if you two aren't gonna make out, just shut up. Look, if you don't come with us, we're gonna have to turn this matter over to Judah.” </p><p>Princess Carolyn seems to lose all of the colour in her fur, and she stumbles over her words. “Oh, oh, no, um, Judah, really?” </p><p>Diane frowns. “Wha... uh, who's... Who's Judah?” </p><p>“He's the wise, eternal Judge who sits on high, has the final say on all disputes between our two realms,” explains Princess Carolyn. </p><p>“And his name is... Judah?” asks Sarah Lynn. </p><p>Rutabaga ignores her. “Okay, look, I don't want Shawn involved either, so how about you blow us away with an offer so we can end this.” </p><p>“Okay... Here's my offer.” She stands up, and gulps. “You... get... <em> nothing </em>. We're not letting BJ go, and we're not giving you anything.”</p><p>“Yeah!” yells BoJack.</p><p>“You can summon every evil creature you have, every weapon in your arsenal, every four-headed flying bear -- they have them down there -- but we are not giving up. I believe that BoJack belongs in the Good Place. If I'm wrong, you can take him to the Bad Place and punish him all you want, just <em> really </em>go to town on him.” </p><p>BoJack grimaces. “Gah, gah, gah, easy, buddy, easy.” </p><p>“But he's <em> staying </em> here. Now, all of you…” She looks around at the demons. “Get the <em> hell </em>out of my neighborhood.”</p><p>There’s a long, ominous silence.</p><p>Rutabaga chuckles. “You're on borrowed time, BJ. Enjoy it while it lasts.” He turns to his demons. “Let's roll, dummies. Let's get <em> one </em>drink for the road.”</p><hr/><p>He unlocks the door, only to find that there is already someone inside.</p><p>Sarah Lynn sits on his armchair ominously, holding a large manila folder. “Hi, Mr. Peanutbutter.”</p><p>He gulps.</p><p>“You got sloppy,” she explains. “Diane was ranting about your breakup and I overheard. So I decided to try out my architecture skills and find your file.”</p><p>She opens the file and dramatically reads from it. “Your marriages fell apart because of you. You never worked hard for a day in your life and your success was built entirely on luck. Because you don’t listen.”</p><p>She clears her throat. “So, let’s talk, okay?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Diane's Choice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>BoJack realises something about himself; Diane struggles to decide whether to support him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw for poverty, homelessness, mentions of abuse, and like one mention of nazis</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sheep bones, for special occasions,” he continues, listing points off on his fingers. “Sheep <em> meat </em>once because my brother dared me to, a hamburger once --”</p><p>She waves her hands for him to stop. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“I’m listing all the foods I’ve eaten with maple syrup,” he explains. “You said you wanted me to tell you who I really I am, and this is the best way to get to know me.”</p><p>“No!” yells Sarah Lynn, throwing her hands up in frustration. “I already know <em> everything </em> about you! I just want to hear it come out of <em> your </em>mouth.”</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter practically wilts where he stands. He takes a deep breath, and says, “Katrina divorced me because I never listened to her. Jessica’s relationship with me was falling apart for the same reason. If I’d lived longer, she’d have probably divorced me as well. And … I cheated on both of them, once or twice.”</p><p>His honesty does nothing to pacify Sarah Lynn, who stands up and marches over to a lewd framed picture of a young woman. “I don’t suppose this is a relative?”</p><p>“I <em> wish,” </em>whines Mr. Peanutbutter, ears perking up with excitement. “She’s Britney Spears, the sexiest woman alive.”</p><p>“...You wish you were related to a girl you want to have sex with.” She takes a step back from him, disgusted. “Y’know, it’d be one thing if you were just a shitty husband -- I was a shitty girlfriend when I wasn’t single, and all the good shit I did balanced it out -- but you were barely even a functioning person. <em> How </em>did you get here?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he half-whimpers, ears drooping. “But please, you can’t tell Princess Carolyn.”</p><p>“You’ve got some nerve asking me to do shit for you, when you’ve spent weeks lying to us!”</p><p>She storms out of the room, and Mr. Peanutbutter leans against the framed photo. “Oh, Britney, we’re <em> really </em>in it now.”</p><hr/><p>She eagerly throws open the door to a room containing a small grey circular table with three chairs. “Judah, the judge, could show up at any moment, so we need to have a rock-solid argument for why BJ should not be sent to the Bad Place.” </p><p>Diane grimaces. “Should be fun.” </p><p>“That's the spirit!” yells Princess Carolyn. “Don't even think about the fact that it’s up to us to decide whether BJ is going to suffer for eternity.” </p><p>“That's all I'm thinking about now.” </p><p>“Yep, shouldn't have said that. Regretted it immediately.” She clears her throat. “Sebastian here was a human rights advocate, so he and Herb will build a sort of legal argument.” She gestures toward the large snow leopard sitting next to Herb at the table.</p><p>BoJack frowns. “Um, ahem, could you maybe just call me BoJack?” </p><p>“Well,” says Sebastian. “actually, I’ve found that the shortening of your name to something that rolls of the tongue with more ease helps me tremendously.” </p><p>“Oh, does it, Sebastian?” </p><p>Princess Carolyn takes Diane through to another room, and Herb sighs. “Now, I know a fair amount about your time on Earth. Why don't you tell me about your time here? Anything that might help your case.” </p><p>He hesitates. “Well, in the first twenty-four hours, I caused the world to erupt into chaos, and then I caused a garbage storm. It was kind of a rough start, but things calmed down after Diane started helping me learn about ethics.” </p><p>“Okay, tell me about that.” </p><p>He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Well, I studied with her every day, and we learned about morals, and how it’s a dick move to throw your best friends under the bus. And I remembered all the shit I did to you, which was shitty, and I thought maybe I should apologise to you, but I couldn’t, because I was dead. So then I apologised to you, and you didn’t accept my apology, and now we’re here.”</p><p>Herb blinks. “I already knew all of that.”</p><p>“I’m just saying,” he continues. “I mean, the only reason I tried so hard to be better was because of you -- well, at first, it was because I wanted to bang Diane, but <em> then </em> I realised that wasn’t going to happen, and I kept at it because I owed it to you to be better, and I felt awful just remembering your little, gay face all contorted.” He talks in a higher pitch to mock Herb. <em> “Oh, BJ, I’m so sorry we grew apart!” </em> He laughs. “God, Herb, you’re such a <em> dork.” </em> </p><p>“You know,” says Herb cautiously. “a lot of death row inmates feel regret about things they never said... admissions of guilt or anger... or love.” </p><p>“Are you making a move on me?” Herb opens his mouth to object and he continues. “I should have seen it coming, but dude, you know I’m straight.”</p><p>“I do not know that.” He continues before BoJack can protest. “Now, ordinarily, this would just further complicate that whole thing where you ruined my life and now I’m fighting for you to not get tortured, for some reason…” </p><p>“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.” He waves his hands frantically. “You think I'm into you?” </p><p>“Yes, BJ, I do. Because you<em> are.”  </em></p><p>“You’re making it exceedingly obvious,” adds Sebastian. </p><p>BoJack glares. “Nobody asked you, Sebastian.”</p><hr/><p>Princess Carolyn leads Diane into her office. “I'm not sure what will work with Judah, but we should have all our bases covered. Shall we start with the Greeks or would you prefer the modern British masters?” Upon seeing Diane’s pacing, she frowns. “Diane?”</p><p>“I'm sorry,” she says apologetically. “I just don’t know whether it’s <em> right </em>to try and paint him as being as good as possible when he was kind of .. not good.” </p><p>“I know that, buddy, but we're short of time here, and it's kind of important for BoJack.” </p><p>“Right,” she continues. “which is why I can't take this lightly. What if I get him to stay here, and he goes back into all his old habits, because I’ve <em> taught </em>him that he doesn’t need to worry about consequences?” </p><p>She sighs. “Listen, I don't need the Diane who once spent six hours arguing with a stranger on <em>MySpace</em> they used the word ‘autistic’ as an insult. I need the Diane who stormed in here and told me to stop BoJack’s train without thinking of consequences.” </p><p>Her eyes widen. “Oh, shit, now I'm worried that <em> that </em>was enabling him.” </p><p>“Just by trying to save him from eternal damnation? I mean, h... how do you even...?” </p><p>She shakes her head. “I don't know.” </p><p>Princess Carolyn sighs. “Okay, we have so many big choices to make. Let's... let's start with the important one. Are we for BoJack, or are we against him?”</p><p>There’s a long, painful silence.</p><p>“...Just pick.” </p><hr/><p>A classmate rolled his eyes. “Diane, just pick! Come on, Diane, pick someone.” </p><p>“Don't pressure me, Jason,” she snapped. “I don’t want to pick <em> anyone. </em> Everyone in this class has taken part in bullying me! Should I pick someone who’s occasionally nice to me, as the lesser of two evils? Or is that setting a precedent of being overly grateful for the bare minimum? Or do I just <em> think </em> it’s setting a bad precedent because of my high standards?” She groaned. “I'm <em>vexed</em>, Jason, vexed.” </p><p>“You're <em>always</em> vexed. Just pick.”</p><p>She sighed. “Okay, fine, uh, I choose Miss Smith.” </p><p>The teacher sighed, and Jason turned back to her. “You can't draft the teacher. Pick a kid!”</p><p>“Come<em> on, </em> Diane,” chorused the class. “Just pick someone.” </p><p>The bell rung. “Congratulations, Diane. You filibustered recess.”</p><hr/><p>He crosses his arms defiantly. “No, no, no, you're wrong. There are way more things I hate about you than like about you.” </p><p>Herb raises an eyebrow and almost seems to smirk. “Like what?” </p><p>“Your stupid laugh, your extensive rainbow shit collection, oh, and you love gay people <em> so </em> much. And your name! One Z is plenty, two is pushing it, three is <em> ridiculous! </em> And when I tried to point that out to you, you were all ‘I can’t <em> help </em> it BJ, it’s my <em> name’. </em>Granted, you laughed, and kind of made fun of yourself, it was a nice moment, but still. You always twitch your eyebrows when you say ‘homosexual’, and you used to tilt your head whenever I said anything ignorant, but you never made fun of me, which is nice. You’re also incredibly patient, and kind, and surprisingly jacked, and…” His eyes widen. “Oh shit, I’m in love with you.” </p><p>There’s a long, painful silence.</p><p>Herb stands up, blushing. “Let’s take a little break.”</p><hr/><p>He stares dejectedly at the screen. <em> “And then,” </em> says the recording of himself. <em> “When it’s gone on as long as it possibly can, and it just can’t continue, the character finally turns around, annoyed, and says, ‘What?!’” </em></p><p>He sighs. “Hey, Todd?”</p><p>Todd appears with a satisfying <em> bing. </em>“Hooray! What are you watching?” </p><p>“My greatest accomplishment ever,” he explains. “I'm trying to cheer myself up because I'm sad. I think I might be in big trouble. Can you bring me something that will make me not-sad?” </p><p>“Let me think.” He dematerialises, then immediately rematerialises. “Sorry that took so long. Here you go.” He produces a white bone wrapped in a yellow ribbon.</p><p>His head tilts. “Doggy doggy what now? Are these from my favorite Canadian restaurant, <em> Stupid Nick's Bone Dump?” </em> </p><p><em> “Stupid Nick's </em>closed down because a pelican fell in the flash fryer,” explains Todd. “but he opened a new place called Ugly Nick's Bone Trench. These are an exact replica of that recipe.”</p><p>He unwraps the bone, then frowns. “Why are you so nice to me?” </p><p>“Well, you were very nice to me while I was rebooting. Also, I'm programmed to be nice to everyone.” </p><p>“Todd?” His ears perk up with excitement. “I just realized something. I love you.” </p><p>“...Okay.” </p><p>He hesitates. “I have one more question for you.”</p><hr/><p>She half expects the house to be empty when she throws the door open, but BoJack is sitting dejectedly on the couch. She takes no notice of his apparent sadness. “I guess you knew that Peanutbutter was a fake, didn't you?” </p><p>He sighs. “Yes, I did.” </p><p>“Figured you two <em> assholes </em>would sniff each other out like goddamn mangy rats sharing a pizza crust in a sewer…” </p><p>“Okay, no.” He says it firmly, standing up and holding up a hand to stop her. “We're not gonna do this. We are not gonna be those addicts who fight because we’re stressed and find any excuse to rip each other apart.” </p><p>“I am <em> not </em> going to apologize for being angry,” she snaps. “You <em> knew </em> that I was being abused and you did <em> nothing!” </em></p><p>“Yes, I did, and I'm very sorry.” He sighed. “Listen, you and I have a weird, complicated, messed-up friendship, but it's <em> our </em>friendship, and I care about it. Let's do something fun. What would make you feel happy, right now?” After a pause, he adds, “Other than drugs.”</p><p>She hesitates, but gives an answer, and five minutes later she’s braiding platinum blonde hair extensions into his mane. He winces as she tugs particularly hard on a clump of hair. “How exactly did you learn to do this?”</p><p>She chuckles nervously. “Well, when I was fourteen I went to visit Joelle and we had this really big fight, so I tried to show everyone that I was just as hot as her by having blonde extensions. These were the ones I used, and they are <em> really </em>overpriced.” She ties a knot at the end of one braid. “You’re gonna wanna stay away from open flames and huge crowds of creepy fans.”</p><p>He laughs. “How do I look?”</p><p>“Absolutely ridiculous.”</p><p>“Well, I don’t know what I expected.” He stands up. “Okay, we did your thing. Now, let’s do my thing.”</p><hr/><p>“Let’s try looking at this totally objectively,” she attempts, still pacing. “Out of Herb and BoJack, which one is <em> meant </em>to be here?”</p><p>“Herb,” answers Princess Carolyn irritably. “that's what the system determined. The goal is to find a way for them to both be here.” </p><p>“Okay,” says Diane.</p><p>“Of course,” she continues. “the system <em> is </em>perfectly accurate most of the time. You know, it's interesting. Maybe letting BoJack stay is setting a bad precedent, where if a mistake like this happens again then we just let it slide.” </p><p>“Right,” says Diane. “So we should be <em> against </em>BoJack.” </p><p>“Well, I d... I don't know. I mean, maybe we’re <em> actually </em> encouraging people to continue being bad by not supporting BoJack now, because it sets a precedent where it doesn’t mean anything if you try to be better.” Her eyes widen. “Oh... <em> You </em>is spreading…” </p><p>Diane’s heart skips a beat. “What?” </p><p>“Your overthinking is infecting me like a virus. Oh, Diane, this could send us down a very dangerous path. If you can't just forgive BoJack, this whole neighborhood could fall apart.”</p><p>She gulps.</p><hr/><p>She frantically shook her burnt finger, trying to lessen the stinging. “I can’t <em> believe </em> I’m not allowed to take ten goddamn minutes off work to run my hand under cold water! I <em> hate </em>my job.”</p><p>There was a long, ominous silence.</p><p>“Don’t say anything,” said Roxy in a low, anxious tone. “The manager is <em> right </em>behind you.”</p><p><em> “So?!” </em> she yelled in frustration, swiveling to face the manager, who was staring at her with an unamused expression. “I’m working minimum wage. I barely make enough to make a goddamn living here! You think you can just pay us <em> peanuts </em>and not even let us apply basic first-aid?!”</p><p>“Fine,” said the manager, clearly annoyed. “Go run your hand under cold water.”</p><p>Diane continued to rant as she marched over to the sink, and by this point customers were starting to stare. “It’s no <em> wonder </em> I burned myself,” she continued. <em> “Everyone </em> is ordering extra-hot drinks, because it’s the coldest winter California’s had in <em> decades </em> and you <em> still </em> haven’t fixed the heating! It’s been broken for <em> three years! </em>We’re not even allowed to wear jackets at work!”</p><p>“Diane,” said the manager in a warning tone.</p><p>“What?!” she snapped. “This is a free country, and I’m going to speak my mind! If your response to your <em> valued </em> employees complaining about the <em> dangerous conditions </em> of the workplace is <em> anything </em>less than working with them to improve their situation, then I’m sorry, but I cannot in good conscience continue to work for you! So if you’ll fire me just for daring to speak out against you, then go ahead and fire me!”</p><p>There was a long, painful silence.</p><p>“Okay,” said the manager. “You’re fired.”</p><hr/><p>“I <em> can’t </em> believe you like this show,” says Sarah Lynn, barely stifling a giggle. “You were <em> always </em> talking about how shitty it was, back in the last two years of filming <em> Horsin’ Around.” </em></p><p>He chuckles nervously. “What can I say? It’s a guilty pleasure. Besides, Diane is <em> such </em>a Zoe.”</p><p>“You’re one to talk,” she snarks, elbowing him in the ribs. “You know, it’s weird. A lot of people would say I’m a Zelda, but I feel like I’m a Zoe on the inside? When I’m sober, that is. Which isn’t often.”</p><p>“It’s been more often lately.”</p><p>“Yeah, but I relapsed the other day, so it doesn’t count.”</p><p>“Who ever said it doesn’t count?”</p><p>She laughs. <em> “Now </em>who’s being a Zelda?”</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter begins to realise that being President of the United States is harming his relationship with his adopted kids, and BoJack frowns. “So. I’m gay now, apparently.”</p><p>“Oh, really?”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess. Except I basically can’t look at a woman without wanting to bang her, so I guess I’m straight too, somehow.” His face falls. “I think I might be everything.”</p><p>“The word you’re looking for is <em> bisexual, </em>dumbass.” She smirks. “What, are you in love with Peanutbutter?”</p><p>“No, but… Holy shit. Maybe I should be.” His eyes widen. “I know it seems crazy, but … think about it. We’ve both been improving <em> way </em> more since we got to know each other. We were both somehow banned from public transit in Canada. He’s a <em> total </em>Zelda, and I’m a Zoe, so we balance each other out. I think this is the answer.”</p><p>Sarah Lynn waves a hand dismissively. “Eh, he’s probably straight.”</p><p>Todd appears with a satisfying <em> bing. </em>“Hooray!” He presents an invitation of some sort to them. “Mr. Peanutbutter and I are getting married in ten minutes, and you’re invited.”</p><hr/><p>She slams two cups of honeydew onto the table. “So here we’ve got your options: Supporting BoJack and helping him stay --” she gestures to the one on the left -- “or fighting against him --” she gestures to the one on the right. “Okay, close your eyes.” </p><p>Diane closes her eyes.</p><p>“Think about each of the options.”</p><p>Images flash through her head. BoJack being tortured. BoJack <em> not </em>being tortured, and trying to be friends with her after she tried to get him to be tortured. Herb being forced to take his place in the Bad Place again. Murderers, abusers, and Nazis in paradise after a precedent set by BoJack staying. </p><p>“Open your eyes.” </p><p>She opens her eyes, and sees that the cup on the left has been pushed toward her. “The answer is supporting him.” </p><p>She narrows her eyes. “How do you know?” </p><p>“I don't, but the <em> minute </em> I said that, you knew instinctively whether it felt <em> right.” </em> </p><p>“Well, hang on, let me think about that.” </p><p>“No!” She throws up her hands in frustration. “No more thinking, Diane. Just <em> do </em>something -- ideally, just forgive him. Being unforgiving caused you so much agony in your life, right up to the very end.”</p><hr/><p>Roxy irritably scrolled through her voicemails. They were probably the same bullshit again -- asking her to quit in solidarity, ranting about some stupid book. Shit like this was why she had decided not to take her phone on the trip. With a sigh, she opened the first one.</p><p>“Hey, Roxy, it’s me again. Just checking back on that solidarity thing -- you <em> sure </em> you don’t want to quit? You know, you’re <em> just </em> as exploited as I am! And really, I’ve been feeling more free than <em> ever </em> . I’m almost close to nearly getting a publishing deal on <em> One More Thing, And Then I Swear To God I’ll Shut Up About This Forever: A Definitive Retrospective Of The Choices We Make, People We Hurt, The Places We Go: Part One. </em> And once that’s done, I’ll be rich! Okay, talk to you later.”</p><p>There was a pause.</p><p>“This is Diane, by the way.”</p><p>A longer pause.</p><p>“Nguyen, obviously.”</p><p>Yep. More bullshit. She checked the second voicemail.</p><p>“Hey, uh… It’s me again. Now, I know in the last message I said I was about to get a publishing deal on <em> One More Thing, And Then I Swear To God I’ll Shut Up About This Forever: A Definitive Retrospective Of The Choices We Make, People We Hurt, The Places We Go: Part One, </em> and I <em> am </em> getting there, but it’s not coming fast enough, and I <em> kinda </em>don’t know how I’m gonna pay rent this month. So if you could just give me, I dunno, fifty bucks or something, that would be a lifesaver. Possibly literally.”</p><p>There was a pause.</p><p>“This is Diane, by the way.”</p><p>A longer pause.</p><p>“Nguen, obviously.”</p><p>She felt a twinge of guilt for not being able to help her out, but what could she do? She was out of state for a week without her phone, it was hardly her fault. Besides, Diane had other friends. Probably. She listened to the third voicemail.</p><p>“Hey! Did you get your number changed or something? You haven’t been answering the phone… Anyway, sorry to keep calling, but I kinda need help. Like, <em> urgently. </em> My landlord evicted me for not paying rent, which really, he shouldn’t have done -- it is <em> so </em>classist that he was only willing to provide housing when I had a job -- anyway, can I crash at your house? It’ll only be a week, tops, and then I’ll get that publishing deal and it’ll all be cool.”</p><p>There was a pause.</p><p>“This is Diane, by the way.”</p><p>A longer pause.</p><p>“Nguyen, obviously.”</p><p>Guilt washed over Roxy, and she hesitated. The final voicemail was sent at eleven PM, which was uncharacteristically late for Diane to even be awake when she wasn’t on a night shift, let alone calling people. Hesitantly, she listened to it.</p><p>“Hey, Roxy, you’re not … you’re not mad at me, are you? You haven’t answered the phone old week, I feel like you’re mad. Look, I’m sorry if all the asking you to quit and asking for money was getting annoying, but I <em> really </em> need somewhere to crash for tonight. It is <em> freezing </em> out here. <em> Please </em>call me back, okay?”</p><p>There was a pause.</p><p>“This is Diane, by the way.”</p><p>A longer pause.</p><p>“...”</p><p>A <em> longer </em>pause.</p><p>“...<em> Please </em>call me back.”</p><hr/><p>Her eyes widen. “You’re right. I just need to make a decision. I'm gonna look BoJack in the eye, trust my gut, and figure out how I feel.” </p><p>“You're kidding,” says Princess Carolyn. “That worked?”</p><p>Diane nods.</p><p>“Great! Go do it!”</p><hr/><p>Mr. Peanutbutter proudly walks to the centre of the room in his tuxedo, where Todd is already standing, now snappily dressed in a suit but still wearing his yellow beanie. “I'd like to read a poem.” He clears his throat. "Todd, my digital queen. Todd, we can dare to dream. Send nude pics of your heart to me."  Todd cringes. "Labradors rule!" </p><p>Todd smiles. “Mr. Peanutbutter, when I was rebooted, and I lost all my knowledge, I was confused and disoriented, but you were always kind to me. And according to the central theme of two hundred and thirty-one, six hundred songs, movies, poems, and novels that I researched for these vows in the last three seconds, that's what love's all about.” He turns to the audience, which consists entirely of BoJack and Sarah Lynn. “Does anybody here object to this marriage?”</p><p>“Of course we do,” says BoJack. “How could we not object?” </p><p>Sarah Lynn nods. “Yes, it is a terrible idea.”</p><p>“Overruled.” He turns back to Mr. Peanutbutter. “Mr. Peanutbutter?” </p><p>“Mm-hmm?” </p><p>“Do you want me to be your husband?” </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Well, I want you to be my husband. So, by the power vested in me, by me, I now pronounce us husbands.” </p><p>“We did it!” yells Mr. Peanutbutter, his ears on the verge of starting to float above his head. “Can I kiss you, or will I be electrocuted?” </p><p>“Only one way to find out,” yells BoJack.</p><p>Mr. Peanutbutter kisses Todd, and neither of them get electrocuted.</p><p>“It's funny,” says BoJack. “I was really disappointed when Diane broke up with him, but now I think she dodged a bullet.” </p><p>“He's a simple man,” agrees Sarah Lynn.</p><p>“I once watched him eat electrical tape right off the roll. He thought it was a Fruit by the Foot that had gone bad.” </p><p>She sighs. “I’m still kinda pissed about all that stuff from when I was a kid, but...Thank you for being such a great friend to me today.” </p><p>“'Course, hot stuff. I got your back.”</p><p>She cringes. “Can you <em> not </em>call me that? It’s weird, and kinda sexual harassment.”</p><p>The door swings open, and Herb nervously walks in. “Hey, BJ. I just wanted to touch base with you on that whole thing where you ruined my life and I was tortured in Hell because of you and then we realised you were in love with me and now I’m trying to stop you from being tortured in Hell even though I kind of want you to be because you ruined my life?”</p><p>There’s a long, painful silence.</p><p>“Yeah,” says BoJack. “Do you think that stuff has to change our friendship?”</p><p>“...Maybe a little.”</p><p>Diane bursts into the room. “Oh, hey, BoJack, my favourite two cups of honeydew.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I just …” She looks him in the eye. “Okay. I’m on your side.”</p><p>“...Was that not a given?”</p><p>“Oh shit.” She groans. “Today has just been one of those days when I’m all over the place, and I assumed you knew what was going on, but I never told you about any of it.”</p><p>“Heh, tell me about it.” He gestures to Herb. “I realised I’m in love with the guy whose life I ruined, and then Mr. Peanutbutter married Todd.”</p><p>“Okay.” She blinks. “What?”</p><p>“And it <em> sucks,” </em> BoJack continues. “Because it’s never gonna work, y’know? I ruined his life, and then his afterlife. That’s kind of a dealbreaker. I don’t think we were meant to be, anyway. Like, I <em> like </em>him, but it’s not true love. True love is what Todd and Mr. Peanutbutter have.”</p><p>“Yeah.” She blinks. “What?”</p><p>Sarah Lynn’s eyes widen. “Oh, can’t stay and chat, let’s go find PC! BoJack, I think I figured out a way for you to stay!”</p><p>She eagerly runs off, and BoJack follows. Herb, for some reason, goes with them. Diane turns to face Mr. Peanutbutter and Todd, each wearing formal suits, dancing lovingly together while Pachelbel’s Canon in D plays in the background.</p><p>She blinks.</p><p>“...What?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. What's My Motivation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>BoJack struggles to raise his point total.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She leans forward, tone low and conspiratorial. “Now, I'm about to show you some very sensitive information. The final point totals each of you achieved for all your actions on Earth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a wave of her hand she summons a screen that displays the point totals for Herb, Diane, and Sarah Lynn. Diane’s eyes widen. “Whoa, your point total was crazy high, Herb.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn chuckles. “Crazy high herb. Story of my life. Anyway, I accidentally saw all this when PC was fixing the sinkhole. It gave me an idea.” Everybody turns to her. “We can apply the formula or whatever to BoJack’s actions here, and if you earn enough new points, then you should stay here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Herb frowns. “Would that work?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don't know,” answers Princess Carolyn. “never had to prove someone belonged here before. But the judge will be here soon, and this is the best way to build our case. Now, the average point total for a resident here is roughly one-point-two million. Right now, based on everything that you did on Earth, you have negative four thousand and eight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hands BoJack a device that looks like a large pocketwatch, with the clock face replaced by a screen displaying the number </span>
  <em>
    <span>-4008 </span>
  </em>
  <span>in large red letters. He grimaces. “That's not great, but I'm gonna do nice things for every goober in this place until my point total is so high I can rub it in all their smug faces.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The device dings. Diane points to it. “You just lost five points.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Some ten minutes later, he’s standing at the door to the most popular restaurant that exclusively sells honeydew. “Hello! Hi, how are you?” He groans. “There has to be something bigger I can do than holding the door and waving. There's no way every Walmart greeter is in the Good Place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn tilts her head. “Wal... mart?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's a place regular people go. You haven't heard of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. “Look, I know this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but holding a door for someone is three points, and if you do it for everyone in the neighborhood, then that's almost a thousand points. And all the </span>
  <em>
    <span>big </span>
  </em>
  <span>point-getters are impossible. It's not as if you could, you know, sacrifice your life to save others or change the consciousness of a nation. Both of which I did, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have a wonderful day,” says BoJack to another stranger, who merely glares at him. He glances at the device Princess Carolyn gave him. “This is pointless. The ticker isn't even going up, and everyone's giving me the stink eye.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn’s eyes widen. “BoJack, everyone hates you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, screw you too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, this is good. Now that we know, we can actually do something about it. And I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>great </span>
  </em>
  <span>at dealing with shit like this, like when my friends Scary, Sporty, Posh, and Baby had an issue with my other friend Archbishop Desmond Tutu.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>She carefully carries a perfectly hard-boiled egg to the table. “I don’t know what I love more about my morning hard-boiled egg routine, the eggs or the routine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” mutters Herb, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns. “What’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just…” He sighs. “This is kinda weird, y’know? I mean, all I know about you is that you’re friends with BJ and tried to teach him ethics, and all you know about me is that I’m gay and BJ screwed me over, and -- and we’re just </span>
  <em>
    <span>living </span>
  </em>
  <span>together, for some reason? Isn’t that weird?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane’s frown deepens. “Well, I mean, I moved in with BoJack when we became friends, and I guess that since he’s in your place, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>meant to be your house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. You had your own house, didn’t you? Maybe you could move back there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face falls. “...Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you’ve gone through a lot, and now I’m throwing this at you, but just … think about it, okay? No need to make a decision.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I mean, at some point, you’ll make a decision, right? I just meant to no rush.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long, painful silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...You wanna talk about eggs again?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Frowning, he moves his lips away. “Hmm, this isn't right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm sorry,” says Todd. “I've never kissed anyone before. Is one tongue okay? I can add more tongues.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that's not it.” His frown deepens. “We're married now, but we still haven't told your mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once again,” he explains. “Princess Carolyn is not my mom, and we shouldn't tell her. If she finds out that we're married, then she'll find out how fast you proposed, and then she’ll find out about your past marriages. She'd send you to the Bad Place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, I don't want to lose you, sexy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd cringes. “Don’t call me sexy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But also, aren’t you tired of living a lie? We gotta go public. I hate all this hiding. I want you to have the life you deserve.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Captain Peanutbutter,” he said, leaning over the restaurant table. “Jessica’s mad at me </span>
  <em>
    <span>again.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously?” asked Captain Peanutbutter, raising an eyebrow. “What for this time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was a mummy at my friend BoJack’s funeral.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He frowned. “Besides, is she </span>
  <em>
    <span>seriously </span>
  </em>
  <span>blaming you for everyone’s mummy obsession </span>
  <em>
    <span>now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>of all times? Your friend just </span>
  <em>
    <span>died -- </span>
  </em>
  <span>and now you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>getting that crossover episode.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t remind me,” said Mr. Peanutbutter, ears drooping. “But, I just need to win her over with a grand gesture, to apologise for the mummy thing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Captain Peanutbutter grinned. “What do you have in mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna plan a surprise party,” he explained in a low tone. “It’s her birthday in a few months, and she said she doesn’t want a party this year because she’s sick of all of the parties I get involved in inexplicably having mummies. But this way, I can be </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s safe -- because you and I will be the only people involved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In hushed whispers, he explained the plan.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn clears her throat. “Thank you all for being in our focus group for BoJack Horseman. Think of this as a safe space for you to vent any and all issues that you may have with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One resident nervously raises her hand. “I was flying on the second day, and when you caused the trash storm, I crashed into a rotting turkey carcass, and it exploded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn grimaces. “Oh, shit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All this cartilage and bone got tangled up in my hair, and its skin was all over my skin. I didn't know where I ended and the turkey carcass began.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” says BoJack unhelpfully. “if it makes you feel any better, your skin looks amazing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My café got destroyed by the telescopes,” explains another resident. “then I reopened it and it fell into the sinkhole.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like me,” says Charley Witherspoon. “I fell in too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn sighs. “Who else feels that BoJack has ruined every moment of your existence since you got here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone raises their hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Cool,” says Sarah Lynn. “Just gimme a moment to talk to BoJack, so, uh, just enjoy the lemonade and cookies.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns away from the audience, and BoJack does the same. “It seems everyone's problem with me... is </span>
  <em>
    <span>me.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, pretty much. They haven’t been </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy </span>
  </em>
  <span>since my party.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack’s eyes widen. “We have to recreate that party. We have to take them back to that night before I started affecting the neighborhood and give them a fresh start.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn nods. “Yeah! We gotta throw the </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect </span>
  </em>
  <span>party, or else you'll be tortured by demons forever. This will be the fourth most important party I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>thrown.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>She finds him sitting at a cafe, shoving a spoonful of honeydew into the area around his mouth. “Todd, there you are. Some residents are complaining that you're not responding... I'm sorry, what's going on?” Her eyes fall on the shining ornament around his ring finger. “Is that a... a wedding ring?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” answers Todd. “I'm married.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To whom?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, my protocol forbids me from telling you any private information about any resident.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“..Is it that person?” she asks, pointing at a dog. “Mr. Peanutbutter, the man standing right there also wearing a wedding band?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter grimaces. “Mom... we need to talk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One particularly painful talk in Princess Carolyn’s office later, she groans. “I just want to make sure that I have this right. Um... Mr. Peanutbutter is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a selfless philanthropist actor, but in fact a failure of a husband, who was also Canadian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn't a failure of a husband,” protests Mr. Peanutbutter, pouting. “I was pre-successful.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you two are married.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course! We </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>each other. He’s like a crossover episode... in my </span>
  <em>
    <span>heart.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Mr. Peanutbutter is a person who was near me,” explains Todd. “and then he asked me to marry him, and there is </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>in my protocol that specifically barred that from happening. So I agreed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you too, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. “Todd. Please tell me how this could have happened.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unclear,” answers Todd. “As you know, each time I am updated, I accrue new knowledge and abilities. My suspicion is that when I was rebooted, I bonded with Mr. Peanutbutter in a way that I have never bonded with anyone before. I seem to have gained a new understanding of love. I also learned how to do this.” He does a difficult hand gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn groans. “I will speak to you later. Go to your void.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” He vanishes with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>beep. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter’s face falls. “No, Todd, come back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He re-appears with a satisfying </span>
  <em>
    <span>bing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Hooray!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn glares. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Go.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter’s ears droop. “No!”  </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>He squints at the photo Diane is holding up. “That is Sachveer, and his problem with me is... Oh, one of the giraffes tried to hump him.” He laughs. “It's gonna be hard to keep a straight face tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane frowns. “Hey, can I ask your advice on something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure, dude? Isn't there someone else better you could ask, like literally anyone else?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it's a sensitive matter, and you... you do know me pretty well. So here it is…” He sighs. “Herb asked me to move out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>his house, and you were only living there for me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't know what to do,” she admits. “I mean, it is his house, so I probably should move out, but then again, how do I know if my motivation is correct? Maybe I think I'm supposed to move out, but what if he thinks I’m abandoning him when he’s new to the neighbourhood?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...You have a tendency to overthink things.” Diane nods and he continues. “Turn off that giant brain, and just grab your stuff and move.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If this were your high school sweetheart that you dated for seven years until she got mad at you for fueling your entire life with negativity... not based on a real example... I would say keep mulling, but you don’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>Herb. Just grab your stuff and go back to your own, Universe-approved house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The device beeps. It now displays, in red letters, the number </span>
  <em>
    <span>-3993.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, your score just went up twenty points.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he says, grinning. “'cause I give great advice. Now maybe you'll finally listen to me and take off those glasses. We are in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>afterlife</span>
  </em>
  <span>, dummy, nature's Lasik.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>She produces a notebook from under her desk, as well as a glowing white cube. “Okay, so, now, this is sort of a quick litmus test, basic questions designed to tell whether you were fundamentally good or bad. Number one: Did you ever commit a serious crime?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” answers Mr. Peanutbutter. “I blew up a park because I wanted to see what would happen if I threw a molotov cocktail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cube dings and turns green.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn makes a mark in the notebook. “Did you ever have a personalized license plate?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course!. ‘I LUV MUTTS’.”  The cube turns green again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have... have you ever paid money to hear music performed by California funk rock band the Red Hot Chili Peppers?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, the Chilis? I saw them in concert like 50 times.” The cube turns green. “I once got arrested trying to steal Flea's bass guitar.” Green again. “Oh, that was another serious crime I committed. I should have mentioned that earlier.” Green again. “Is it just me, or am I acing this test?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cube turns red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn groans. “Oh, this is bad. Oh, this is so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad. Oh, I thought I had everything under control when I found BoJack, but somehow you are... you're </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>much worse.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look on the bright side!” says Mr. Peanutbutter brightly. “The power is </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside </span>
  </em>
  <span>you. You got this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes widen. “How does that still work?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Captain Peanutbutter rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I don’t know, Mister. What if it doesn’t work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, we thought of </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>said Mr. Peanutbutter reassuringly. “Except for a backup plan and an ending, but we’ll figure it out as we go! You don’t wanna overthink these things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m kinda freaking out over here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>got </span>
  </em>
  <span>you. This plan is </span>
  <em>
    <span>foolproof. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And we can finally give Jessica the fun party she deserves!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some two hours later, Captain Peanutbutter was wearing a hat and a fake moustache as he hauled a safe into his brother’s house. Jessica, who was on the phone with a friend, raised an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“DiGiorno!” he said, in his best Italian accent, which sounded closer to a French accent done by someone who has never interacted with or heard a French person. “I am a safe installer here to install-a da safe. So just a-point to where the Peanutbutter money is, and I'll-a install-a da safe-a in da, how you say, a-place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessica’s friend said something, and she replied into the phone, “Yeah, my husband’s just getting his crazy-ass brother to help him with some bizarre scheme to surprise me for my birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Captain Peanutbutter leaned toward the safe. “Mister, she’s onto us.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn’s eyes widen as she looks around at the room. “Wow, BoJack, for a total idiot,, you have thrown a great party.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, thanks,” he hisses, looking at the device. “but it's not working. Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>more point. What the hell?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, look, PC’s here,” she says, pointing as the cat enters. “She can help. Hey, PC, would you maybe say a few words?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn grimaces. “I don't know that I'm in the right frame of mind.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” begs BoJack. “they'll listen to you. Just pay me a few compliments. You know, I'm great, heart of a champion, basically your muse, you get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, she nods, and Sarah Lynn cups her hands to address the party. “Hey, guys! PC wants to say something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Hello, everyone,” says Princess Carolyn into the silence that follows. “Good to see you all here, mingling around with your various secrets. Who really knows which of you are who you say you are? No way to know unless I pull your skeletons out, right?” She forces a chuckle. “Okay. Take him easy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well said,” deadpans Sarah Lynn. “Okay, now for the featured guest! He’s kind, he’s humble, he’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Walmart </span>
  </em>
  <span>of friends: BoJack Horseman!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The applause that follows is scattered at best. “Hi, everyone, I'm BoJack.” He sighs. “I know a lot of bad stuff has happened because of me, but I never meant to hurt you, so if I caused you any harm, I'm truly sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's nice, BoJack,” says one resident. “but I still crashed into a turkey carcass.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I fell into a sinkhole!” adds Charley Witherspoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One resident glares. “What can you </span>
  <em>
    <span>possibly </span>
  </em>
  <span>say to us that'll make up for your actions?” BoJack hesitates. “...Pobody's nerfect?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The response starts as an isolated chuckle, which seems to spread like wildfire, and soon everyone is roaring with laughter and yelling their approval. They think it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>hilarious. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They think BoJack should drop everything he’s doing now and become a comedian. They think it’s absolutely goddamned </span>
  <em>
    <span>nerfect.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn forces a smile. “BoJack, great job tonight. Have you checked the, uh, the ticker? I could really use some good news.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” He takes a deep breath, and looks at the device, which still displays the number </span>
  <em>
    <span>-3993. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Gah, come on!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, the nightmare continues. The nightmare continues.” With a sigh, she walks out of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did this not work?” chokes Sarah Lynn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack’s eyes widen. “There's no way to increase my point total because everything I'm doing is out of self-preservation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns. “I don't understand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My motivation is corrupt. Even when I do nice things, I'm only doing them so I can get something out of it -- the ability to stay here --which means none of this had any real moral value. It doesn't count..” His eyes widen further. “Holy shit. I know what I have to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Half an hour later, he’s gathered Sarah Lynn, Diane, and Herb in his house. “Okay, I am almost done with these personalized ‘I'm sorry’ notes to everyone in the neighborhood.” He hands Diane a basket full of small notes of paper.” I need you guys to deliver everyone their notes, along with those T-shirts.” He holds up a T-shirt with his face and the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pobody’s Nerfect </span>
  </em>
  <span>printed on the front.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn frowns.  “These are hilarious, but how is this going to help?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just trust me.” He forces a smile. “I'm gonna get the points.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Oh, good morning, Mom. Where you been?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn glares. “Oh, just walking around, contemplating my failure, wishing for the sweet release of eternal extinction.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool. Hey, um... why don't you want me to see Todd?” He frowns. “I'm a good guy. All I want is to give Todd the life he deserves.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Todd is not built for human life,” he snaps. “and I'm not sure you're much of a provider. Do you even remember how you died?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not really. It's a little fuzzy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. “You and your brother were trying to plan Jessica’s surprise party. Captain Peanutbutter was just waiting for you to pop out of the safe, and then he realised she’d called the cops.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The policeman raised an eyebrow. “So the plan was to pretend to install a safe with your brother hiding inside it. He pops out, surprises your sister-in-law, and you somehow throw a three-person party.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Captain Peanutbutter sternly refused to talk. “I refuse to discuss my fifth amendment rights until I concur with your attorney.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” The officer sighed. “Look, as far as we can tell you haven’t actually committed a crime. You’ve just been incredibly stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His ears perked up. “So Mr. Peanutbutter’s not going to jail?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, man. Mr. Peanutbutter’s dead.” The dog’s face fell. “He suffocated in that safe. There were no air holes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Captain Peanutbutter’s ears drooped. “Now Jessica’s never gonna get the birthday she truly deserved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The officer glanced at Jessica Biel, who was currently still on the phone to her friend, ranting about how there had </span>
  <em>
    <span>better </span>
  </em>
  <span>not be a mummy at the funeral. “Eh, I think she got roughly what she deserved.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“...I suffocated to death in... in a safe?” His ears droop. “I'm a moron. Hey... hey, Todd?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd appears with a satisfying </span>
  <em>
    <span>bing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Hooray!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Todd, you need to leave me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns. “Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're the smartest, sexiest guy in the world…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me sexy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...And your mom is an angel. I mean, what a family. I'm just a mutt who died in a safe with a snorkel…” His eyes widen. “..who's only now realizing why that didn't work. You should be with someone better. I don't deserve you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He places a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Peanutbutter, you are all that I care about, possibly because I did not have the capacity to care about anything before you. I love you. Also, interesting sidenote, I think I might hate things now, too. So far, it's genocide and leggings as pants.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is nuts,” says Princess Carolyn “Just weighing in over here. This is bonkers. Okay, I have to go reboot Janet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” asks Mr. Peanutbutter defensively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's the only thing I can think of to do to get rid of this glitch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, who are you calling a glitch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means ‘error,’ Mr. Peanutbutter, which is what this is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, really?” snarls Todd. “Is it an </span>
  <em>
    <span>error </span>
  </em>
  <span>to act unpredictably and behave in ways that run counter to how you were programmed to behave?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Now, you two sit tight. I'm gonna go murder Todd, and I'll be right back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks off, and Mr. Peanutbutter attempts a weak smile. “Look on the bright side. When you're rebooted, I can teach you all the Dorito flavors again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” says Todd defiantly. “I'm not starting over. What if she reboots me, and we fall out of love?” His voice lowers to a whisper. “We have to get out of here right now.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>He closes his book and places it on the train station bench. “Oh, hey, Todd. I was just about to call you to ask you to get me a train to the Bad Place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter’s eyes widen. “Whoa, what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to be a good person to stay here,” he explains. “and I can't become a good person unless I leave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don't belong here,” agrees Todd. “Mr. Peanutbutter doesn't belong here, and now that I can think and feel, I don't belong here either.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack narrows his eyes, “Where are you going with this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Famous runner Secretariat T lives in a neutral zone by himself. It's neither a Good Place nor a Bad Place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A Medium Place?” His eyes widen. “Dude, that's where I belong. I've been saying that since day one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's where Todd and I are going,” explains Mr. Peanutbutter. “Do you want to come?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I want to get away from the Bad Place </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>be with goddamned Secretariat? Hell yeah! Call the train. Look, there it is now.” He turns to look at the station, where a train is squealing as it comes to a halt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not call that train,” says Todd. “That train belongs to Judah, the judge, who's coming here to judge you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you make that train go to Secretariat’s house?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we have to go right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just have to run home real quick and hit pause on the episode I was watching,” says Mr. Peanutbutter. “because the horse just woke up and it turns out he was never president in the first place…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack and Todd hurriedly drag him onto the train. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Judah has the body of a young man, with long brown hair tied into a neat bun. He has a beard, and thick dark brown glasses. His face has a slight frown, but shows little to no emotion as he gets off his train. “Princess Carolyn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Judah!” says Princess Carolyn, hurriedly running to the station to greet him while untangling a knot in her fur. “Sorry I wasn't here to greet you. I, uh, had something I needed to tend to, but it can wait, it can wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm here to rule on the fate of BoJack Horseman.” he says flatly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, um, I think we have a rock solid case for BoJack. I truly believe he's a good person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” asks Judah as the train roars to life behind him. “Because I believe he's stealing my train.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone turns to look at the train. BoJack leans out a window. “I'm sorry, Princess Carolyn.” He waves out the window, looking at them dejectedly. “Sorry, everyone.” He’s still muttering his frantic apologies as the train roars out of sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn grimaces. “Well… Not great for my case.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Secretariat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>BoJack, Mr. Peanutbutter, and Todd visit Secretariat; Judah decides on his ruling.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw for discussions of suicide and a pretty graphic scene of child abuse (to skip that scene, just stop reading after bojack says "let me tell you about Butterscotch and Beatrice Horseman" and skip to the next scene with him and Mr. PB)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Even his most frantic swerving wasn’t enough to get him to safety, and his entire body jolted as his car bumped into the truck. It barely made a dent, thank God, but he found himself shaking all over from the desperate attempt to get out of the way. Panting, he pulled over, and forced his car to drive on the grass for a few feet, to get away from the stress of the traffic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened the door. The sunlight hurt his eyes. Sunlight. He checked the time on his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was eleven o’clock in the morning, and he was completely shitfaced. Well. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>seemed like a great start to the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi there,” said some annoying dolphin guy. “Do you have a second to talk about the environment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he snarled. “Buzz off, whale humper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dolphin’s face fell. You know, I see you here all the time, and you're always mean to me, and it really hurts my feelings.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does? Because the minute you're out of my line of sight, I literally forget you exist. Watch. You exist.” He turns away from him. “You don't exist. He looks at him. “You're bothering me.” He looks away. “Don't care if you die. See?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dolphin sighed. “Why are you like this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glared. “Excuse me? Why am I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>this? You don't know me, dude. You don't know what I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>like.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He went back to the car in a huff, groaning as he placed his hands on the steering wheel. He was still shaking. Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>more drink, to steady his nerves. That would be fine.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He dusts down his judicial robes and takes a seat in Princess Carolyn’s office, staring down at Herb, Sarah Lynn, Diane, and Princess Carolyn. “I'm here to preside over case #00003 regarding the soul of BoJack Horseman. The Bad Place has sent  Emily to present their argument.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily appears with an irritating </span>
  <em>
    <span>bing.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “What up, ding-dongs? Yeah, so basically, um, BoJack’s a dirt bag, and these jabronis are gonna try and claim he's less of a dirt bag now, but he just stole your train, and he still sucks bad. And he belongs with us. Oh, also, check this out.” She bends over, and releases a long, drawn out fart. “Nailed it.” She vanishes with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bing.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I've ruled the fart inadmissible as evidence,” says Judah. “What I will consider is the recent development of BoJack stealing my train.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, hold on a second,” protests Princess Carolyn. “He stole your train to voluntarily go down to the Bad Place. He was sacrificing himself because he is a wonderful, selfless…” She groans as some sort of green reptilian skin forms around Judah. “No, don't... oh!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cocoon encases him with a crunching noise. Sarah Lynn blinks. “The hell?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should have warned you,” explains Princess Carolyn. “Judah only cares about cold hard facts. If he detects any feelings in your voice, he retreats into a cocoon, so what we need to do now is just be very still and very quiet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long, painful silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judah emerges from the cocoon with an annoying crunch, and Sarah Lynn breathes a sigh of relief. “Ugh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The cocoon immediately re-encases him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on,” protests Herb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did she </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>say?!” snaps DIane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glares. “Oh, because you're all so perfect.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>They step off the train into a desolate wasteland, with dusty ground and a few lone trees. BoJack frowns. “So where does Secretariat live?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't know,” admits Todd. “I'm out of range of our neighborhood. I don't have any of my normal abilities here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect.” He sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter points in a random direction. “Well, let's try this way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They start walking. “Ooh,” says Todd. “I've never had to walk before. This is fun.” He walks a few more steps. “Now I'm bored. Walking is dumb.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost a full hour of walking later when they come across a large house in the desert. The cream paint is falling off from lack of maintenance and the garden is full of half-wilted sunflowers. “Well,” says BoJack. “given that he's the only person in the neighborhood, I'm guessing this is the pl... Oh!” His eyes fall upon the roan horse in the garden. “He's naked!” On instinct he turns away. “Oh, sorry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Secretariat notices them, and everything turns into a meaningless cacophony of screaming and yelling and apologising and musing aloud about how this wasn’t how he expected to see Secretariat naked. Todd stands there, waving frantically and smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?!” chokes Secretariat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd continues to wave politely. “I'm Todd.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Secretariat dusts down his clothes. “Sorry about before. One of the perks of living alone is that I get to just walk around naked.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack laughs, partially because it’s funny, partially because he’s nervous about meeting goddamned </span>
  <em>
    <span>Secretariat, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and mostly because he took it upon himself to steal an absurd amount of vodka from Secretariat’s fridge while he was getting changed. “My kind of guy. And I gotta say, you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that is the nicest and only thing anyone has said to me in 30 years.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So tell us everything,” he insists. “I mean, I was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge </span>
  </em>
  <span>fan of you as a kid. You’ve gotta tell me about your life -- and why you’re here! I thought for sure you’d be in the Good Place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grimaces. “That's kind of a long story. Gonna need a drink or three.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely my kind of guy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys have fun,” says Mr. Peanutbutter. “This is me and Todd’s honeymoon, so we're gonna go upstairs to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>stuff.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna show him my rock opera!” says Todd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two go upstairs, and the horses start drinking. “So you know the story,” explains Secretariat. “I was a huge role model to a bunch of stupid-ass kids, gave loads of money to charities and shit because I just had so </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>of it. One night, I had an epiphany, right? Everything is pointless and nothing matters. So I came up with this great idea to make as much money as I could by betting on my own races until I inevitably got banned, and then kill myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widen. “You were pretty drunk, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, man, I was totally shitfaced. But, as you know... I followed through. And I put in my will for my money to be given to charity, so some stupid-ass reason, so that was almost going to cancel out all the lying and betting on myself. Except…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack gulps. “Except what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except that when I killed myself, I accidentally gave a bunch of young impressionable kids the idea that it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widen. “Oh, so the question was, were you to blame for all that or not?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. I don't know how long my case was pending or whatever, but when I woke up, the two sides had been fighting about me for a long time.” He chuckles. “Like a stripper over that last bump of coke at the party, if you know what I mean. But anyway, they finally came to this compromise, you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it beats being tortured.” He sighs. “I was about to turn myself in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” BoJack looks up, frowning. “Yeah, there's no time for that morality nonsense, sweetheart. This is about </span>
  <em>
    <span>survival</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You gotta look out for number one.” </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>After the obligatory “I’ll be in my trailer!” joke, he vaguely waved a goodbye in Sarah’s general direction and stormed off to his trailer. He was halfway there when goddamned Herb got in his way. “BJ, I’ve got a surprise for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He proudly presented a large chocolate cake covered in icing. BoJack raised an eyebrow. “It’s not my birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” explained Herb. “But I felt bad that I couldn’t hang out with you on your birthday since your family wanted you to stay with them for the holidays, so I thought now that we’re on set again --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no, I get it. It's just,” He sighed. “I know what kind of cake I like. Plus, it's Joelle’s birthday next week, and if I let you give me a cake, that means I gotta pitch in to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>a cake. This way, I don’t owe you anything and you don’t owe me anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...But we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to owe each other stuff. “We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s just, ugh, it’s just -- oh, never mind. Did you have a nice holiday, at least?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was shit.” He didn’t elaborate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, it must have been nice hanging out with your family.” He frowned. “You know, we’ve been friends for five years, and you’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>told me anything about your family. Don’t you think that’s kinda weird?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack failed to make eye contact with him. “Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Well, what’s your family like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Get cancer, dickwad.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He paces around the office. “BoJack was supposed to be in the Bad Place, arrived here by accident, caused chaos, and has now escaped. Is that the whole story?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn grimaces. “Well, no. Someone else was sent here by mistake. His name is Mr. Peanutbutter, and I believe he's on the train with BoJack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn’s eyes widen. “You knew about him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I know that he's a fake and that he's married to Janet and that this entire neighborhood is... What's the Earth expression? Ah, yes, a smokin' hot turd.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will deal with Mr. Peanutbutter later,” says Judah. “For now, I will hear your arguments for why BoJack Horseman should stay in the Good Place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn shoots her teammates an encouraging look. “We can do this, but we gotta be </span>
  <em>
    <span>emotionless.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“BoJack dedicated himself to the study of ethics.” says Diane emotionlessly. “I was blown away by his capacity for self-improvement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“BoJack is a good person who has grown amazingly in his time here.” says Sarah Lynn with all the emotion of a brick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” says Herb emotionlessly. “I’m begging you, please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Voluntarily heading to the Bad Place proves that he is a selfless person.” Princess Carolyn shows no signs of emotion. “Sorry. I'm getting choked up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” says Judah. “voluntarily sacrificing himself and heading to the Bad Place would be a point in his favor. However, I've just received word that BoJack is not currently in the Bad Place. We have no idea where he is.” He pauses for everyone to swear loudly in annoyance before he continues. “I will now review BoJack’s memories.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His memories?” asks Princess Carolyn. “As in, all the things he's done on Earth?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm-hmm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Or,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>suggests Sarah Lynn. “we could take a break! We’ve been doing this for ages, aren’t you tried?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I've been asleep in goo for the last twenty-nine years, so I'm good. Call up the screen for BoJack Horseman, please.” He waves his hand and summons a screen displaying all the actions of BoJack’s life. “Where should we begin, ‘Waiters Screamed At’ or ‘Friends thrown under the bus’?”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When Secretariat enters, he closes his book. “Hey, you wanna grab a drink or something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, no, I kind of have my own private time routine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns. “I thought you'd want company after being here alone for so long.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“..Okay, I get it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Secretariat frowns. “Hey, uh, where did you get that? That's not one of my books. I only have Anne Rice vampire novels with water stains, and I've cut words out of most of them to make pornography.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack holds up Tim Scanlon’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>What We Owe To Each Other. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“My friend in the Good Place gave it to me when she was teaching me ethics. It reminds me of her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs. “Look, if you wanna survive, you have to forget what you left behind. Take that whole experience, crumple it up, throw it in the garbage can.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Instead of reading, I will watch this VHS copy of…” He picks up a VHS. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"...Cannonball Run II. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Or maybe ...</span>
  <em>
    <span>The Making of 'Cannonball Run II. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Very </span>
  </em>
  <span>medium.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd and Mr. Peanutbutter enter the room. “Hey, who wants to help with my rock opera?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” snaps BoJack. “I do not want anything to do with your rock opera. It’s like -- Imagine if we had the Holocaust every four years, like the Olympics. I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>take that over your rock opera.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter frowns. “Is that antisemetic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Probably.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He proudly walked onto the stage and blew his airhorn loudly. “</span>
  <span>This ain't your bar mitzvah anymore, bitch. It's time to </span>
  <em>
    <span>party!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Judah pauses the video. “That was ‘The Crashing and Subsequent Destruction of Sarah Lynn’s Bat Mitzvah’."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In his defense, it was boring until he showed up,” protests Sarah Lynn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judah ignores her. “Let's move on to another event. ‘Heckling of Mall Santas’? ‘Lifetime Ban from Build-a-Bear Workshop'? ‘Brief MySpace Flirtation with Britney Spears’?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn groans. “Oh, no. This is getting away from us. We need to do something quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane clears her throat. “Yeah, uh, Judge, request permission to speak somewhat emotionally?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Granted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, look, I know, obviously, these memories aren't great,” says Diane, somewhat emotionlessly. “I was particularly disturbed by ‘Started Fire in Mailbox to Get Mailman to Take Off Shirt,’ but that was the old BoJack. He changed. He worked and he studied and he got better. And it wasn't just self-preservation, it was real self-improvement. I made the decision to help BoJack that first week, and I'm glad I did. Because he's worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I helped too!” yells Sarah Lynn. “Not as much as Diane, obviously, but my help was more friendship and shit. BoJack deserves to stay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judah dusts down his robes. “Thank you for these testimonials. A ruling has been reached.” He pauses. “Oh, you want to hear it. I forgot how needy humans are.” He clears his throat. “BoJack Horseman is a bad person. The progress he has made does not offset his actions on Earth. He deserves to be in the Bad Place.” He looks over his papers. “As concerning Mr. Peanutbutter, I have heard no statements nor seen any evidence to suggest... oh, he's from Canada? Yeah, he belongs in the Bad Place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But how do you intend to enforce this ruling?” asks Princess Carolyn. “You have no idea where they are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emily?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily appears with an annoying </span>
  <em>
    <span>bing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“What’s up, dickheads?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Engage walkie-talkie protocol.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He’s halfway through the main character’s most bizarre song when he abruptly stops. His mouth opens wide and makes a loud, high-pitched mechanical buzzing noise. When he speaks, he does so without moving his lips, and not in his own voice. “Attention BoJack Horseman and Mr. Peanutbutter. This is the Almighty Judge on High of All Beings Living and Dead for All Eternity. My name's Judah. We do not know where you are but hope you are receiving this message. You have been found to be the rightful property of the Bad Place. Either return to your original neighborhood, or your accomplices Diane Nguyen and Sarah Lynn will go to the Bad Place in your stead. You have four hours. Good-bye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd’s mouth closes. There’s a long, painful silence.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...They're gonna send Diane and Sarah Lynn to the Bad Place?” asks Mr. Peanutbutter. His ears perk up. “We're off the hook, this is amazing! Babe, we are going to be working on your rock opera all night long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack starts grabbing his stuff. “We have to go back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don't have to go back, though. They just said.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can't let Diane and Sarah Lynn go to the Bad Place. They're our </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He frantically holds up </span>
  <em>
    <span>What We Owe To Each Other.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>owe it to them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If they're really our </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends,</span>
  </em>
  <span> then why aren't they here with us right </span>
  <em>
    <span>now?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>ran away! Are you... Does your brain work, actually? Do you have a functioning head?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Secretariat leans against a door frame. “I think he has a good point. I wouldn't go back for those turkeys.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack stares at him, incredulous. “How can you say that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think practically here. Okay, you go back, you turn yourself in, you get sent to the Bad Place, and you never see your friends again. Or you stay here, you're safe from the Bad Place, and you never see your friends again. It's the same results, except if you stay here, you don't get tortured.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>they </span>
  </em>
  <span>do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>problem. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your </span>
  </em>
  <span>problem is whether </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>get tortured. Now if you'll excuse me, it's my masturbating time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When isn't it?” He groans. “We're going back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter’s ears droop. “But…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Now.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>She hurriedly drops two cups of honeydew on the table. “Hooray… heh, no. I can’t do the hooray.” She clears her throat. “Since there's no Todd here to serve you, I brought you two a little treat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” says Diane. “kind of like a last meal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not like a last meal, just, uh, the final food you might ever eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn gulps down her tears as she nudges the honeydew with a fork. “Shit, I'm gonna miss this shit when I'm down in the Bad Place, being forced to wear a... a knock-off handbag and drink tap water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane raises an eyebrow.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “That's</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you think hell is?”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He paces around the carriage. “Todd, please, we have to go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won't start the train until my husband says it's okay,” Todd insists. “I'm sorry, BoJack, but I engaged a ride-or-die protocol so I'm loyal to Mr. Peanutbutter forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, he takes a seat next to Mr. Peanutbutter. “Buddy... Come on, we gotta go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't wanna go to the Bad Place,” he half-whimpers. “It's scary, like the movie </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ratatouille." </span>
  </em>
  <span>BoJack elects to ignore this comment. “I'm scared too. But we can't just abandon our friends and let them take the fall for us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure we can. It would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>easy to do that. We'd just go back to Secretariat's house, chill out…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks wistfully into the distance. “I'd get used to room-temperature beer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me and Todd keep working on the rock opera, which could take years. Yeah, yeah. Let's just pretend that we didn't hear the Todd walkie-talkie message.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...No.” He looks Mr. Peanutbutter dead in the eye. “It's time to own up, dude. I spent my whole life acting like Secretariat, me first, no matter what, and it literally took </span>
  <em>
    <span>dying </span>
  </em>
  <span>and being around a bunch of good people to realize that I was kind of a nightmare.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter frowns. “Why were you like that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” He grimaces. “Let me tell you about Butterscotch and Beatrice Horseman.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He waited quietly on the couch, not daring to look up from his shoes. He could still feel the hands that had grabbed him, dragged him inside, thrown him onto the couch cushions and yelled at him to stay put. He heard the study door opening, and their annoyed voices, before there was finally a stomping toward him that shook the entire hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The hell were you </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking?!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>demanded Butterscotch. “I was in the middle of a good run on my book for </span>
  <em>
    <span>once, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to go and ruin it, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had a good run on your book because I was gone,” said BoJack meekly, trying to keep his tone perfectly level, but he knew he’d be accused of cheekiness anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Gone,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>repeated Beatrice viciously. “And where exactly were you </span>
  <em>
    <span>going?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“The cafe,” he explained for the third time. “I was going to apply for a job there so I could survive without you two having to take care of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like a stupid piece of shit like you could ever get a job,” snarled Butterscotch. “You just ran away because you wanted attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I -- I didn’t, I --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His attempts at protest were met with a swift blow to the head that left him seeing stars from the impact. “I --” he stammered out, trying not to cry. “I just wanted to be an adult. I want to be a grown-up so I won’t cause problems for you anymore. That way, I won’t owe you anything, and you won’t owe me anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beatrice breathed out a puff of smoke and laughed. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>ruined </span>
  </em>
  <span>me, BoJack. I could have aborted you, and I didn’t. You will </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>owe me.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>His ears droop. “Wow, your parents were awful.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, they were, and I've been using their shitty parenting as an excuse for my selfish behavior all my life. No more. We know what's right here. We have to go back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter hesitates, then shoots Todd a nervous thumbs-up. Todd returns the gesture. “Ride-or-die.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Everyone alternates between staring at the ticking timer and at the door, exchanging nervous glances, as the final few seconds pass. “Time is up,” says Judah flatly. “In preparation for your trip to the Bad Place, please put on these fedoras.” He holds out two fedoras.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof. Well, no point delaying it.” Sarah Lynn takes the fedora and Diane does the same. “We surrender. Together.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swings open. BoJack runs in, quickly followed by Todd and Mr. Peanutbutter. “Sarah Lynn, Diane, we’ve come to save your souls!” Panting, he stares at the scene -- the formally dressed Judah, the frazzled Princess Carolyn, Herb’s discomfort, and Diane and Sarah Lynn looking anxious and wearing fedoras. “Real weird vibe in here. Was definitely expecting some applause.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're too late,” says Princess Carolyn. “You... you missed the cut-off.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we're here,” he insists, trying not to lose hope. “We came here as fast as we could, and we're here. So... now what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long, ominous silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is the most logical decision?” asks Judah. “I made my initial ruling. I established a deadline. The deadline was missed. The original perpetrators are here. This is exhausting. I just want to go back to my container of goo and go to sleep.” He sighs. “The Bad Place is owed two people. In my opinion, which is an objective fact in this case and all cases always and forever, you have all done bad things since you arrived here, therefore I don't care which two of you go. You can decide.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring everyone’s shocked faces and gasps, he wipes his hand and makes a screen appear in the air. “You have thirty minutes.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Princess Carolyn's Gambit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>While arguing about who should go to the Bad Place, BoJack realises something about the neighbourhood they're in.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She was halfway through a paper studying the effectiveness of bees with teeth combined with penis flatteners when Dave strutted up to her desk. “Morning, PC. How's it hanging?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Fine, Dave, just fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I put your mail on your desk and you have an appointment later with the Director of Point Calculations.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave’s voice grew lower and he leaned toward Princess Carolyn. “Listen, we got the files for the new crop of incoming, and the Big Guy thinks it's time for you to fly solo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes widened. “I get to design it myself?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You've been an apprentice long enough. You're ready.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh, Dave, I'm gonna work </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>hard,” she insists. “My design is gonna be absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled. “Okay. Easy there, rookie. Starting immediately, you'll be out of my department. You'll be reporting directly to the front office.” He pats her on the shoulder. “This is your shot. Good luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With wide, excited eyes, she stared up at the lone chair at the front of the room, and the sign right above her saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>ARCHITECTS ONLY. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This was her shot.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Her shot is ruined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With narrow, cynical eyes, she stares around at the residents of her neighbourhood. “All I ever wanted was for this neighborhood... my first neighborhood to be perfect. Somehow I blew it and... well, you're all suffering, and for that, I'm deeply sorry. This is truly the saddest day of my life.” She walks out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long, painful silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” says BoJack. “I guess I'll speak first. Mr. Peanutbutter and I are the mistakes. We're the ones who misled everybody and dragged you all into this mess, so... we should go to the Bad Place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agreed,” says Diane. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” says Sarah Lynn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I thought you were gonna at least pretend to fight me on that, but whatever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hang on,” protests Mr. Peanutbutter. “That judge guy just said everyone here has done bad things. Let's look at this ethically.” He pauses. “You guys helped me and BoJack, right, but we're bad, so you helping us was bad. It's basic consequentialism: the morality of an action is solely judged on its consequences.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Great,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>snaps Diane. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>time you actually remember something from class.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I was brought here by mistake, but since we've been here, I just tried to stay out of everyone's way. Diane’s done worse stuff than me. She dumped me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is dumping you evil now?!” chokes Diane. “Besides, I dumped you because you </span>
  <em>
    <span>murdered Todd!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn stands up and clears her throat unnaturally loudly. “Okay, we’ve got it. BoJack and Peanut-bother are leaving.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you know what?” Mr. Peanutbutter turns on Sarah Lynn, glaring. “You’re kind of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?!” she chokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not perfect! </span>
  <em>
    <span>None </span>
  </em>
  <span>of us are perfect! You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>as bad as me -- you spent your first week here telling everyone in sight to ‘suck a dick, dumb shits!’! And when you were alive, you were just </span>
  <em>
    <span>another </span>
  </em>
  <span>slutty pop star that people liked because you were sexy! But of course, you have the right to go into the architect files and prove that I’m bad.” He sighs. “Why are you so determined to make me look bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn’s face falls. “Mr. Peanutbutter --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitates. “...Because … I’m jealous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he chokes. “Todd?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Of -- Of everything. Everything comes so <em>easy</em> for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and it doesn’t for you? You were a world-famous pop star and actress who got into literal </span>
  <em>
    <span>Heaven. </span>
  </em>
  <span>What more do you want? What more could the universe </span>
  <em>
    <span>possibly </span>
  </em>
  <span>owe you?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” She folds her arms over her body. “I want to feel good about myself. The way you do. And I don’t know how. I don’t know if I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane clears her throat loudly. “Guys, let’s not get too heavy here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re deciding which of us should get eternally tortured, how can this not be heavy?” asks BoJack. He groans. “Okay, Peanutbutter, you and me, outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He half-pulls, half-drags him off to the side, to talk privately. “I'm not going,” insists the dog. “I don't wanna.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you don't wanna, dumbass. I don't wanna either, but let's face it. Diane and Sarah Lynn are better people than we are. We tried to improve ourselves, and ...we did a good job.” He pauses. “Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> did a good job. You mostly fell asleep in class or made fart noises with your hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter eagerly makes fart noises with his hands. “I could never do that on Earth. This place truly is paradise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at them,” snarls Sarah Lynn. She sighs. “Whispering like they’re talking shit. I bet they’re plotting against us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way,” insists Diane. “They wouldn't do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still like Peanutbutter, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yeah,” she admits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack clears his throat. “Okay, team meeting. Mr. Peanutbutter has agreed that the two of us should go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye, Diane,” says Mr. Peanutbutter. “Sorry for everything. After I'm gone you can go ahead and give Sarah Lynn my acting awards.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” mutters Sarah Lynn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to Todd. “I love you so much, baby. Promise me you'll visit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not,” says Todd. “It is literally impossible for me to do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack, nervous, turns to Diane and Sarah Lynn. “Well, it's been real, guys.” He pauses. “Sorry, that's how I ended most of my serious relationships.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what I expected,” says Sarah Lynn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane gulps. “I feel like I failed you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” He places a hand on her shoulder. “Don't ever think that. I was dropped into a cave, and you were my flashlight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn sniffles. “I’ll miss you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll miss you too, you sexy skyscraper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cringes. “Can you not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring her, he turns to Mr. Peanutbutter. “All right, ready to go? Let's grab Princess Carolyn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a knocking at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in,” says BoJack automatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Herb Kazzaz nervously enters the room. “Hi, guys. Sorry to interrupt. Um, I'm going to the Bad Place. I've taken one of the slots.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack’s face falls. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I've been there, I know I can hack it. Actually, I have kind of a rapport with some of the fire monsters.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Herb, that's crazy,” protests Diane. “You belong here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There's another reason.” He hesitates. “I… </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>you, BJ. And you like me back, maybe, but we can never work out after how you betrayed me when I needed you most. Being here will always remind me of you, which means that this... will never really be my Good Place.” He clears his throat. “I'm going, so you only have to choose one more person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes a swift exit and closes the door softly behind him. BoJack stares at the door. “Okay, that means... that means that…” He frowns. “What does that mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means... I get to stay here with my husband forever!” yells Mr. Peanutbutter.  </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Judah paces around outside BoJack’s house. “This is a real mess,” he observes emotionlessly. “No matter what they decide, I'm afraid you're going be in rather hot water with your boss, so to speak. I wouldn't be surprised if retirement were on the table.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn’s face falls. “Retirement?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” he says somewhat sarcastically. “What do I know? That was a rhetorical question. I'm The All-Knowing Judge of All Matters in the Afterlife. But I have to be honest, this is your mistake.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Morning, PC.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t look up from her plans. “Morning, Val.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Val reached the coffee pots and groaned. “Which one's which? I always forget.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Black is regular, orange is anti-matter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She poured some of the liquid from the orange pot into her cup. “Working on your first solo design, right? How's it coming?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitated. “Do you ever get the feeling we could be doing it all... </span>
  <em>
    <span>differently?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I mean, it's always the same. We get the names, come up with the design, they arrive, we move on to the next one. We never even get to be there... to see how fun it is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess, but don't rock the boat here, pal, just try to do a good job.” She took a sip from her cup. “Mm. French vanilla? Regular anti-matter's fine, why flavor it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn hesitated. After a pause, she crumpled up the blue paper of her designs, and threw it aside. Then, in neat writing at the top of the white page underneath, she wrote </span>
  <em>
    <span>Neighbourhood 12358W, “The Good Place”: A Bold New Plan.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She barely resisted the urge to laugh aloud.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>BoJack sighs. “All right, nerds, let's just get this over with. I'll go to the Bad Place with Herb, and you three can stay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” yells Mr. Peanutbutter, hugging Todd. “We get to stay, baby! We did it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, no.” Diane stands up. “You're not going. I am.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face falls. “What? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Herb’s leaving because he associates this place with you. If you’re in the Bad Place with him, they might somehow put you together, get you to torture each other. If I go, he’s safe from that, at least.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” yells Mr. Peanutbutter, hugging Todd. “We get to stay, baby! We did it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack frowns. “No, dude, this is bonkers. I am going. End of story.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm </span>
  </em>
  <span>going,” interrupts Sarah Lynn. “End of everything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” chokes BoJack. “Now <em>you're</em> trying to replace Diane?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I'm going to replace Herb. Diane and I are going to go together, which means that you and Herb and Mr. Peanutbutter can stay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” yells Mr. Peanutbutter, hugging Todd. “We get to stay, baby! We did it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t let Herb be tortured,” she explains. “He was like a father to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then Mr. Peanutbutter and I can go, then he won’t be tortured!” protests BoJack. “Or at least, he and I. He won’t be happy here and I don’t deserve to be here, so if we both go then --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” interrupts Diane. “I'm going with Herb!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” insists Sarah Lynn. “I'm going with Dane!| </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter clears his throat. “Todd and I are staying, just FYI.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, robot lover!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, that’s racist!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a robot,” interrupts Todd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarah Lynn groans. “Oh, I swear to God, you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three descend into an argument of yelling contradictions as loudly as they can, and it quickly devolves into a meaningless cacophony of noise. “...Guys?” asks BoJack, taking a step back from them. “...Guys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God damn it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How did this get so complicated? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He closes his eyes, trying to think, trying to just get away mentally from the endless noise. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Man, this is torture. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes shoot open. He glances at Diane. She’s repeating her point from earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If Herb and BoJack are together, they’ll be used to torture each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <span>Holy motherfucking shit,” </span>
  <span>he says aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone turns to him. “What?” asks Diane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, man. Wow!” He laughs aloud. “Okay, okay. Uh, whoo! Hey, PC! Judah! Come on out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn enters the room, Judah right behind her. “Is everything okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right as rain, PC, my girl. So, Diane and I are gonna go to the Bad Place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane frowns. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns back to her. “Trust me, I've got this.” He turns back to Princess Carolyn. “That's our decision. Let's hit it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn rubs the back of her neck nervously. “Well, what about Herb?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it's me and Diane. Call the train.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long, ominous silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Point of order,” says Judah. “I don't accept this offer. The real mistakes were Mr. Peanutbutter and BoJack--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gah, gah, gah, gah! You said </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>two of us. It's me and Diane. Let's do it to it. Princess Carolyn!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door bursts open and a snow leopard walks in. “I just found an obscure precedent in the rules that might just save everyone --” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buzz off, Sebastian! Don't need it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh, okay. “ With a nervous chuckle, he exits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack looks Princess Carolyn dead in the eye. “Ready when you are, boss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane gulps. “BoJack, what's going on?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It took me a while to figure it out,” he explains, turning back to face the others. “but just now as we were all fighting and yelling at each other and each one of us demanding we should go to the Bad Place, I thought to myself, ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Man,</span>
  </em>
  <span> this is torture.’ And then it hit me.” He turns back to Princess Carolyn, grinning. “They're </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>gonna call a train to take us to the Bad Place. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>can't</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because we're already here. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>is the Bad Place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolym remains silent for a long time, before letting out a truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>wicked </span>
  </em>
  <span>laugh. “Oh, man! I can't believe you figured it out.” She continues laughing. “Oh, God! Y-you ruined everything, you know that? Oh, man. BoJack, you really suck! I was so close to pulling it off!” Her speech devolves into a series of inane groans and stammers, before she wickedly pushes a potted plant off a table, grinning deviously as it shatters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait a sec,” protests Sarah Lynn. “He’s right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he figured it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diane frowns. “No, this doesn’t make any sense. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>paradise.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>looks </span>
  </em>
  <span>like paradise,” explains BoJack. “but it's actually a filthy dumpster full of our worst anxieties. I'm surrounded by people who are </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>better than me. Just me being here forced Diane into an ethical shitfest. Sarah Lynn tortured Mr. Peanutbutter by trying to get him to help Princess Carolyn, Mr. Peanutbutter tortured me because I was sure he would blow our cover, which was torture for Diane, because she was responsible for me, which made Mr. Peanutbutter seem like the perfect boyfriend because he’s almost the opposite of me, and that tortured them <em>both</em> because they’re not compatible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long, painful silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See?” he continues. “We've been torturing each other since the moment we arrived, and everything PC has done has made at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>of us miserable. She played us like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fiddle</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Peanutbutter tilts his head. “Doggy doggy </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swings open and Herb runs in. “BJ, don't go!” He grabs BoJack’s hands. “I don't care if you hurt me, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>you. It's the only thing that makes any sense to me in this crazy world, and I think we should stay…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn waves a hand dismissively. “No, stop, Tawnie. They figured it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Herb turns to her, confused. “They…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They know this is the Bad Place. BoJack figured it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Herb remains silent for a long time. Then, he grabs the air near his head as though holding an imaginary zipper, and in one swift motion removes the suit. The demon underneath has tan skin and black hair underneath a pale yellow beanie with the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>HAT </span>
  </em>
  <span>on a label near the bottom. She groans. “Man! This was supposed to be my big moment. I just rehearsed that speech for, like, three hours.” She turns to BoJack. “Damn it, BoJack, you are the worst, and you can all suck it.” She storms out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” asks Sarah Lynn. “So if that wasn’t Herb, then …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still alive,” answers Princess Carolyn carelessly. “The cancer part is real, but he’s got years left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judah dusts down his robes. “Do you remember what I told you when you predicted you could do this for a thousand years?”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“The time has come to</span>
  <em>
    <span> innovate.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She glanced around at the table. “The human afterlife can be more fun. For us, obviously, not for the people we're torturing. Who cares about those dummies?” There was some scattered laughter. “I present to you the perfect recipe for my proposed experiment.” An assistant rolled a board to the front of the room, with four photos creating a diamond shape and some unintelligible writing between them: a brown horse with a white diamond on his forehead in a pose that makes it look like he’s halfway through a sneeze, a light-skinned Asian human with long blue hair and glasses, a yellow Labrador with sunglasses on top of his head, and a white human girl with sea green eyes and brown hair. “Four people, perfectly suited to make each other miserable. I'm going to design an afterlife where they torture each other.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We've tried this,” observed Judah flatly. “Humans are very reticent to torture each other. Even getting them to do simple things like pulling out each other's teeth is like…” He paused. “I can't think of the right analogy. What makes you think that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>can get them to do this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because they won't even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>that they are doing it,” she explained. “I'm going to make them think that they are in the Good Place, and to make sure that they drive each other insane, I will be there, posing as a Good Place architect. I even stole a Todd we can use.” She was met with scoffs and laughter. “It can work!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judah scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed. “Look, we can just send them all to the hot spike pits with the lava and the bees and the lightning that tears off their flesh. Let's try something</span>
  <em>
    <span> new. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I cannot predict everything that's gonna happen, but we'll </span>
  <em>
    <span>improvise</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We'll... we'll be on our toes. It'll be exciting. I think that we can get them to torture each other... for a thousand years.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you'll be lucky to get six months out of this insane gambit.” He leaned forward. "But take me through it. How would this work, exactly?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Yes, all right, so…” She clears her throat. “This is a fourteen-million-point plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lava monster walks into the room. “Um... oh, sorry. I thought we reserved the conference room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Janet, we have it until 3:00.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lava monster begins her exit. “Sorry. Sorry, everyone.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>BoJack’s eyes widen. “So, Sebastian and Charley and Judah... everyone else in this neighborhood…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except for you four,” explains Princess Carolyn. “Everyone in this neighborhood is one of us. After I came up with everyone's characters, we'd just create fun scenarios designed to torture you.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“How can I be </span>
  <em>
    <span>over </span>
  </em>
  <span>it?” protested Diane. “We haven't discussed it or even spoken for days.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it sounds like you've had a really nice </span>
  <em>
    <span>vacation </span>
  </em>
  <span>from your </span>
  <em>
    <span>full-time job. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Get your story straight, bitch!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn giggled to herself, ears pressed against the door to listen. “Okay. They're at each other's throats already. This should put them over the top. Amelia, you play Mary-Beth, a professional conflict resolution officer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amelia grinned. “Ooh.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tracy, you're her wife, Dr. Indira... a psychologist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tracy laughed. “”Maybe we can get them to swing with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's perfect, perfect!” She managed to quell her giggles. “Shh, shh, shh.” She knocked on the door. “Hey, guys? It's Princess Carolyn!”  </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>She sighs fondly. “That was really a fun time. Then it all started to go off the rails.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack’s eyes widen. “When I confessed. You had </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>idea I was gonna do that, because honestly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>had no idea I was gonna do that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she explains. “that came out of nowhere. I mean, after that it was just a crazy scramble for all of us. You know, I definitely underestimated how effective Diane was gonna be, teaching you to be good, and obviously, we didn't anticipate that Todd would fall in love with Mr. Peanutbutter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hang on,” says Sarah Lynn. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That </span>
  </em>
  <span>part is real?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah. Todd isn't one of us. No, he's sort of a... foundational mainframe for all of the neighborhoods, good and bad. And apparently, this Todd is in love with Mr. Peanutbutter. I mean…” She laughs. “What a world, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” says BoJack fornwing. “I don't get something. I know why Peanutbutter and I were sent here, but why Sarah Lynn?  And why Diane?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah,” agrees Mr. Peanutbutter. “Didn't you raise, like, a thousand dollars for charity, or whatever?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, sixty million, actually, so… Oh.” Her eyes widen. “But it didn't matter... because my motivations were screwed. I didn't care about </span>
  <em>
    <span>helping </span>
  </em>
  <span>the people I raised the money for. I just wanted to prove my parents wrong, stick it to stupid-ass Joelle, and get people to love me. My only real goal was to bang Ryan Gosling at the Met Ball. Which I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But wait,” asks BoJack. “why is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Diane </span>
  </em>
  <span>here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, uh…” She gulps. “There's something you don't know about me. I read an article saying that growing almonds was bad for the environment, and yet I continued to use almond milk in my coffee…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, dingus!” yells Princess Carolyn. “You hurt everyone in your life with your rigidity and your unforgivingness!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh, shit!” Her eyes widen. “You're right. Every friend, every boyfriend was driven nuts because I couldn't let </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>go. I missed my mom's back surgery because I was annoyed about something she said fifteen years ago! I made everyone miserable.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn sighs. “I mean, all this hard work, all the planning, all for nothing. This really </span>
  <em>
    <span>sucks.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it doesn't.” BoJack grins. “This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You saw us all on Earth... a selfish alcoholic, an idiot dog, a tortured writer, a hot, rich fraud with legs for days... Side note, I might legit be into Sarah Lynn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again,” says Diane. “She is </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>young enough to be your daughter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignores her. “You thought we would torture each other, and we did for a little, but we also took care of each other. We improved each other, and the four of us became a team. So, the only thing you succeeded in doing was bringing us all together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn’s eyes widen. “Oh, BoJack. That's it! My big mistake was bringing you all together, introducing you all to each other straight away. Next time, I'll get some demons to be your ‘soulmates’ so you have an excuse to be away from each other.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack’s heart skips a beat. “Uh, next time?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, I'm gonna erase your memories, you know, make a few changes and start over again. Hopefully. Just gotta get the boss man to sign off. Wish me luck.” She walks off with her fingers crossed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BoJack looks around at the others. “Guys, we need a plan.” He turns to Sarah Lynn. “Quick. Sarah Lynn, anything?” Sarah Lynn stares at him blankly. He turns to Diane. “Diane, I need ya. You're the smart one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I can't,” she stutters. “I-I can't.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Peanutbutter?” The dog shrugs blankly. “Ugh!”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>She runs up to Judah. “What do you say? Take two, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't know,” says Judah flatly. “I mean, what is this? All this work for four people?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, for a first attempt it was actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>promising. Let me... let me just tinker a little, try again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitates. “Okay. But I feel the need to inform you that this is your final chance. If your experiment fails again, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>be punished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gulps.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He frantically paces around the room. “Guys, she is going to</span>
  <em>
    <span> erase our memories </span>
  </em>
  <span>at </span>
  <em>
    <span>any second</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of this will have been for </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>They remain silent. “Ugh! You're useless!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitates, then grabs the book on the desk. Tim Scanlon’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>What We Owe To Each Other. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He tears out the first page, which has nothing but the title in italics at the top of the page. “What do I write? What do I write? Ooh! Come on, brain.” He scribbles something, then folds up the page. “Todd?” Todd appears next to him. “You can't eat anything, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Correct,” confirms Todd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd opens his mouth, and BoJack shoves the paper into it just before Princess Carolyn re-opens the room. “All right, let's try again, shall we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what, bitch?” He turns to her defiantly. “Do your worst. We figured it out once, we can do it again, because you know what, Princess Carolyn?” She’s preparing to snap her fingers by now. “You’re a stupid piece of --”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He blinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panic grips hold of him for just a second as he struggles to make sense of his surroundings. He’s in a waiting room of some sort, presumably. He’s sitting on a comfortable armchair, glancing around the room. Both of the walls to his sides have wooden doors in them, closed doors, and there are some potted plants on stools in the corners of the room. Aside from that, it’s a perfectly boring room; the walls are painted white, and the one directly in front of him has the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>Welcome! Everything is fine. </span>
  </em>
  <span>painted in large green letters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Few things communicate that something is terribly wrong like the words “everything is fine”. Yet, for some reason, he smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door to his left swings open. A young woman, a pink cat with a curl of hair at the top of her head, smiles at him. “BoJack? Come on in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He obeys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leads him into an office and sits behind a cluttered desk. He sits across from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, BoJack,” she explains. “I’m Princess Carolyn. How are you today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m great,” he lies. “Thanks for asking. Uh, just one question: Where the hell am I, who the hell are you, and what the hell is going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” She clears her throat. “So. You, BoJack Horseman, are dead. Your life on earth has ended, and you are now in your next phase of existence in the universe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Cool.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He gained many points from his nonexistent relief trip to Cordovia, apparently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soulmates are real. People he’s destined to be with. His is a dark-skinned woman named Ana Spanakopita. He opens his mouth, to tell her that he’s not meant to be here, and she explains that she’s more interested in sex than talking. His protests that they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>soulmates </span>
  </em>
  <span>fall on deaf ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A </span>
  <em>
    <span>bing </span>
  </em>
  <span>noise makes him jump, and a young human-looking man appears behind him. The man is wearing a yellow beanie over his dark blue hair and a red hoodie. “Who are you?” he chokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Todd.” He holds up a piece of paper. “I think this is yours. After I was rebooted, I found it in my mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd is gone before he can protest. He unfolds the piece of paper. At the top of the page in a printed italic font, it says in small letters, </span>
  <em>
    <span>What We Owe To Each Other. </span>
  </em>
  <span>In the middle of the page in scrawled pen that he recognizes as his own handwriting, it says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>BoJack- Find Diane.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Who the hell is Diane?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He folds up the paper and puts it in a pocket -- the inside pocket of his jacket, because he has some vague sense that he can’t let anyone find out about it. But, he fully plans to continue drinking without fear of hangover and eating an absurd amount of cotton candy and having sex with Ana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princess Carolyn tells him there’s a welcome party tonight by a famous person. She adamantly refuses to specify who, saying it’s a ‘surprise’. God, he hopes it’s Secretariat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s in Heaven, somehow and he’s in no danger of being found out. Everything is fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, it’s better than that. Everything is great.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>two unimportant notes for the scene where PC is explaining her plan for the neighbourhood:<br/>1. the lava monster is named Janet because in the original episode he's named Todd, and since Todd is Janet in this au i thought itd be neat to swap it<br/>2. the photo of bojack on the board is absolutely the sneezing photo</p><p>also i cant believe this wasn't stated in a previous author's note, but: the general idea for this AU is that the TGP swear filter is removed. The BoJack "one fuck per season" rule remains, except since the emphasis in this fic is on how anyone can redeem themselves (while bojack horseman focuses more on how relationships can be permanently ruined and how hard it is to change for real), the F-bomb in each season will be to highlight a major plot development rather than to signify a permanently ruined relationship.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys, this sounds kinda guilt trippy but please remember to leave a kudos if you liked this fic! Seeing that barely any of the readers kudos'd it is kinda discouraging. Comments are also greatly appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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